F 
ato 


S>adie 


• 


BANCROFT 
LIBRARY 

O 

THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 


A  CHAPTER  IN   A  LIFE 


OCTOBER  9,  1864 
AUGUST  24,  1905 


PRIVATELY   PRINTED 
MCMVI 


ALAMEDA 1864-1885 

BOSTON 1885-1887 

LOS  ANGELES      ....     1888-1890 

BERLIN 1890-1893 

EVANSTON 1893-1905 

ALAMEDA    ....  July-August,  1905 


ALAMEDA 

1864-1885 


f^TjHEREFORE  to  whom  turn  I  but  to  thee,  the 
M       ineffable  Name  ? 

Builder  and  maker,  thou,  of  houses  not  made  with 

hands  ! 
What,  have  fear  of  change  from  thee  who  art  ever  the 

same? 
Doubt  that  thy  power  can  Jill  the  heart  that  thy  power 

expands  ? 
There  shall  never  be  one  lost  good  !     What  was,  shall 

live  as  before; 

The  evil  is  null,  is  nought,  is  silence  implying  sound ; 
What  was  good  shall  be  good,  with,  for  evil,  so  much  good 

more  ; 
On  the  earth  the  broken  arcs  y  in  heaven  a  perfect  round. 

All  we  have  willed  or  hoped  or  dreamed  of  good  shall 

exist ; 
Not  its  semblance,  but  itself ;  no  beauty,  nor  good,  nor 

power 
WJiose  voice  has  gone  forth,  but  each  survives  for  the 

melodist 
When  eternity  affirms  the  conception  of  an  hour. 

Robert  Browning. 

frrjHROUGH  love  to  light  !  Oh,  wonderful  the  way 
t       That  leads  from  darkness  to  tfie  perfect  day  ! 
From  darkness  and  from  sorrotv  of  the  night 
To  morning  that  comes  singing  o'er  the  sea. 
Through  love  to  light !  through  light,  0  God,  to  Thee, 
Who  art  the  love  of  love,  the  eternal  light  of  light ! 

Richard  Watson  Oilder. 


JOSEPH  KNOWLAND,  a  native 
of  the  City  of  New  York,  but  reared 
at  Southampton,  Long  Island, 
migrated  to  California  in  1855.  Eight 
years  later,  from  her  native  town  of  Bing- 
ham,  Maine,  Miss  Hannah  B.  Russell  also 
migrated  to  the  Golden  State.  Both  went 
by  way  of  the  Isthmus  of  Panama,  a  tedi 
ous  route,  and  beset  with  hardships  and 
dangers.  These  two  married,  and  their 
first  child  was  Sadie  E.,  who  was  born 
in  San  Francisco,  October  9,  1864.  In 
1872  the  family  residence  was  changed  to 
Alameda,  a  suburb  of  San  F*antds£Cy 
where  it  has  since  remained.  * 

The  parents  brought  with  them  froxil  V  ;\  i " 
their  eastern  homes  not  only  the  vigor  of 
the  pioneer  but  also,  what  was  less  com 
mon  in  the  new  El  Dorado,  training  and 
habits  of  a  scrupulous  kind.  On  the 
mother's  side,  along  with  the  blood  of  two 
[9] 


MEMOIR 

Massachusetts  soldiers  of  the  Revolution,1 
there  had  descended  the  typical  New 
England  seriousness,  and  on  both  sides 
the  Puritan  tradition  was  strong.  Both 
parents  feared  God,  gave  themselves  to 
active  service  in  the  church,  and  lived 
lives  of  simplicity  and  neighborly 
helpfulness. 

Thus  it  was  that  the  daughter  came  by 
the  solidity  and  serious-mindedness  that 
characterized  her  whole  life.  A  certain 
intensity  of  temperament  that  she  in 
herited  from  her  father  prevented  her 
from  fully  sharing  the  even  calm  of  the 
mother's  faith,  but  it  added  emphasis  to 
an  unfailing  spirit  of  reverence  and  obedi 
ence,  and  to  a  keen  realization  of  the 
practical,  active  aspects  of  righteousness. 
The  tone  of  her  childhood  was  serious 

,-r-vtQo'  serious,  one  of  her  teachers  once 
remarked. ,  Yet  she  had  two  blessings  that 

'' are ,  forking  in  many  a  more  careless  girl 
hood.  With  her  mother  she  enjoyed  an 
exquisite  bosom-companionship,  more  inti- 

1  Joseph  Russell  and  Calvin  Russell.  By  virtue  of  this 
descent,  Mrs.  Coe  became,  in  1887,  a  member  of  the  Fort 
Dearborn  Chapter  of  the  Daughters  of  the  American 
Revolution. 

[10] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

mate,  more  constant,  more  lasting  than 
any  other  instance  of  it  that  I  have  ever 
known.  On  the  other  hand,  from  close 
association  with  her  father,  whose  un 
bounded  energy  and  strict  integrity  were 
gaining  for  him  a  high  standing  among 
business  men,  she  formed  habits  of  punc 
tuality,  system,  accuracy,  and  business 
honor. 

In  her  sixteenth  year,  following  an  ex 
perience  that  she  was  taught  to  regard  as 
conversion,  she  became  a  member  of  the 
First  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  of 
Alameda.  This  experience  was  a  simple 
outburst  of  emotion  uncomplicated  by  any 
dramatic  features.  As  she  grew  to  ma 
turity,  though  she  did  not  lose  respect  for 
it,  she  ceased  to  regard  it  as  a  decisive 
event.  Obviously  it  was  only  one  expres 
sion  of  a  growing  religious  life  that  had 
been  nurtured  in  the  home  and  the  church 
from  the  beginning. 

Following  the  custom  of  her  parents, 
she  assumed  a  share  of  church  work.  She 
did  it  spontaneously  and  as  a  matter  of 
course,  and  her  willingness  made  her  share 
a  large  one.  Through  nearly  the  whole 
[11] 


MEMOIR 

of  her  teens  she  was  the  organist  of  the 
church  and  the  Sunday  school.  For  several 
years  she  was  a  teacher  in  the  Sunday 
school.  In  the  social  affairs  of  the  church 
she  was  a  natural  leader,  and  she  was 
prominent  in  organizing  and  carrying  on 
a  church  literary  society.  She  was  like 
wise  one  of  the  organizers  and  active 
workers  of  the  Alameda  Flower  Mission, 
a  society  of  young  women  that  ministered 
to  the  sick  by  means  of  California's  flower- 
treasures. 

Of  her  abundant  good  works  a  pastor 
who  came  to  her  girlhood  church  some 
five  years  after  she  had  married  and  moved 
away  from  Alameda  says  : 

"  It  is  no  risk  to  say  that  she  was  the  best  known 
and  most  highly  esteemed  young  woman  in  Ala 
meda.  When  she  went  east  to  complete  her  edu 
cation  the  people,  without  respect  to  denomination, 
gave  her  a  memorable  farewell  reception  and  made 
her  a  handsome  and  costly  present.  She  had  been 
the  presiding  and  inspiring  spirit  of  the  Alameda 
Flower  Mission.  There  were  few  sorrowing  hearts 
in  Alameda  who  did  not  feel  the  gentle  touch  of 
her  kindly  ministrations.  Girl  that  she  was  in 
years,  she  was  always  in  the  right  place  at  the 
right  time.  Organist,  Sunday-school  teacher,  at 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

the  head  of  nearly  every  good  work  in  the  church 
and  in  the  community,  she  became  a  recognized 
moral  power  in  Alameda.  Though  absent  nearly 
seventeen  years,  the  long  after-glow  of  her  beauti 
ful  Christian  life  is  still  remembered.  She  loved 
Alameda,  and  Alameda  never  forgot  her.  If  she 
could  have  chosen  the  place  of  her  departure  it 
could  have  been  no  more  ideal.""1 

Her  formal  schooling  was  had  in  the 
grammar  schools  and  the  high  school  in 
Alameda.  But  with  her  piano  lessons, 
which  began  at  the  age  of  nine,  there 
entered  into  her  life  what  was  destined  to 
become  the  chief  instrument  for  the  train 
ing  of  her  powers.  Her  lessons  began  as 
they  do  with  most  girls  whose  mothers 
value  music  as  an  accomplishment.  But 
when,  after  a  time,  she  was  placed  with 
Ernst  Hartmann  of  San  Francisco,  not 
only  did  music  become  a  passion  with  her, 
but  signs  of  decided  talent  also  began  to 
appear.  Hartmann,  a  product  of  the 
Kullak  school,  was  a  real  musician  and  a 
real  teacher.  He  was  a  rigorous  train 
ing-master,  but  he  was  more  than  that ; 
he  developed  the  pupil's  musical  sense, 

i  Editorial  by  Rev.  F.  D.  Bovardin  the  California  Christian 
Advocate,  August  31,  1905. 

[13] 


MEMOIR 

communicated  his  own  high  artistic  ideals, 
and  inspired  to  personal  endeavor.  Mrs. 
Coe  was  obliged  to  learn  in  later  years 
how  great  a  part  muscular  relaxation 
has  in  effective  piano  technic,  but  she 
never  ceased  to  hold  Hartmann  in  grateful 
remembrance. 

It  is  needless  to  dwell  upon  her  early 
and  growing  local  prominence  as  a  player. 
There  came  a  time  when  the  applause  of 
neighbors  and  musical  leadership  in  the 
home  community  seemed  only  steps  toward 
higher  effectiveness  and  severer  stand 
ards.  The  need  for  a  larger  life  became 
imperative. 

No  one  then  guessed  what  powers  were 
struggling  for  self-utterance.  To  all  ap 
pearances  she  was  simply  a  young  woman 
of  popular  social  qualities  and  refined  tastes 
who  played  the  piano  exceptionally  well 
and  was  favorably  situated  for  attaining 
the  general  cultural  and  social  ends  that 
commonly  satisfy.  But  she  felt  suffocated. 
Dimly  she  knew  that  there  was  a  wider 
sphere  for  her,  and  she  clearly  saw  that 
music  was  the  door  of  entrance  to  it. 

At  first  music-study  in  Germany  was 
[14] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

contemplated  and  almost  decided  upon. 
But  parental  instinct  had  to  be  com 
promised  with,  and  so  Boston  was  selected 
instead,  and  the  autumn  of  1885  finds  her 
joyously  breathing  the  fine  musical,  liter 
ary,  and  artistic  air  of  that  old  metropolis 
of  culture. 


[15] 


BOSTON 

1885-1887 


HE  face  of  all  the  world  is  changed,  I  think, 
Since  Jirst  I  heard  the  footsteps  of  thy  soul 
Move  still,  oh,  still,  beside  me. 

Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning. 


HOW  often  have  we  said  to  each 
other  that  it  seemed  impossible 
that  we  were  ever  strangers ! 
Yet,  as  far  as  chronologies  are  true,  we 
met  for  the  first  time  in  Boston  in  the 
spring  of  1886.  I  was  then  a  student  of 
theology,  with  no  other  expectation  than 
a  life  in  the  pastorate.  Through  a  mutual 
friend,  a  former  resident  of  Alameda,  I 
was  introduced  to  Miss  Knowland.  How 
vivid  is  the  incident  at  this  moment ! 

She  was  absorbed  in  work.  Carl  Baer- 
man  was  her  teacher  of  piano,  and  John  W. 
Tufts  her  teacher  of  theory  and  composi 
tion — both  of  them  musicians  and  teachers 
of  high  rank.  With  both  she  did  the 
most  painstaking  work,  unsparing  of  rou 
tine  and  detail.  Without  drawing  any 
contrast  between  the  two  teachers,  it  may 
be  said  that  Mr.  Tufts  discovered  her  per 
sonality  and  bestowed  on  her  a  friendly 
interest  that  won  her  lifelong  gratitude. 
[19] 


MEMOIR 

Though  she  was  a  private  pupil,  with  no 
formal  curriculum  to  follow,  she  conceived 
music-study  in  no  narrow  or  perfunctory 
way.  She  not  only  gave  herself  to  the 
hearing  of  much  music,  but  she  also  read 
and  reflected  upon  musical  subjects.  In 
her  Boston  note-book  I  find  evidence  of 
a  wide  range  of  interest.  Here  are  notes 
on  the  various  periods  of  musical  history, 
the  characteristics  of  different  composers 
and  the  qualities  of  their  particular  com 
positions,  musical  instruments,  and  various 
kinds  and  aspects  of  music.  There  are 
quotations,  also,  from  the  lives  of  the 
composers  and  from  books  on  musical 
history  and  criticism. 

With  characteristic  enterprise,  she  was 
studying  also  the  historical  and  literary 
landmarks  of  Boston  and  its  vicinity,  read 
ing  the  best  of  our  English  and  American 
literature,  and  getting  acquainted  with 
Boston's  art- treasures.  Her  first  summer 
vacation  finds  her  enjoying  the  quaint 
sights  and  sounds  of  old  Nantucket  Island  ; 
the  winter  sees  her  presiding  at  the  piano 
at  religious  meetings  for  the  neglected 
classes  in  the  North  End  of  Boston.  Thus, 
[20] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

around  music-study  as  a  nucleus,  there 
grew  an  aspiring  and  many-sided  life. 

It  is  pleasant  to  recall  the  zest  with 
which  she  seized  upon  her  opportunities. 
The  much-longed-for  larger  world  was 
opening  to  her.  It  was  a  world,  too, 
of  fun  and  frolic  with  her  music-student 
associates,  as  well  as  of  ambition-arousing 
privilege.  A  long-forgotten  parody  and 
cartoon  that  had  their  origin  in  a  trio  of 
young  ladies,  of  whom  she  was  one,  is  a 
pleasant  reminder  of  the  relaxations  that 
gave  equipoise  to  her  earnest  life. 

She  was  not  more  energetic  and  viva 
cious  than  she  was  simple  and  sincere. 
One  could  never  encounter  her  except 
upon  a  plane  of  high  purpose. 

Tennyson,  Browning,  and  the  American 
writers  —  especially  Emerson  —  who  have 
made  of  Boston  and  Concord  America's 
great  literary  shrines ;  Beethoven,  Mendels 
sohn,  Schubert,  and  Schumann  —  these 
formed  the  environment  in  which  our 
acquaintance  grew. 

In  the  spring  of  1887  a  young  man 
delivered  his  graduating  "oration"  in  a 
state  of  dazed  insensibility  to  his  subject 
[21] 


MEMOIR 

and  to  all  the  scholastic  aspects  of  the 
occasion.  He  was  alive  to  only  one  thing : 
in  the  vast  audience  that  filled  old  Tremont 
Temple  there  sat  one  who  had  just  spoken 
a  word  that  was  for  him  a  word  of  destiny. 
Guided  by  the  advice  of  my  professors, 
I  had  shaped  my  studies  with  reference 
to  the  profession  of  teaching.  But  now 
came  an  urgent  call  to  missionary  service 
in  China,  and  the  whole  problem  of  life's 
work  had  to  be  reopened.  All  her  habits 
and  tastes,  all  her  training  and  musical 
ambition,  made  against  toleration  of  such 
an  idea  as  living  in  China.  Yet  she  only 
expressed  her  natural  bent  and  her  great 
est  natural  gift,  as  I  know  from  her  whole 
subsequent  life,  when  she  refused  to  re 
gard  even  China  as  an  obstacle.  Though 
the  call  of  duty  was  not  China- ward,  after 
all,  still  what  I  had  to  offer  her  was  not 
attractive  from  any  worldly  point  of  view. 
To  forego  a  prospect  of  ease,  of  unre 
stricted  cultural  advantages,  and  of  social 
opportunity  in  order  to  share  an  obscure, 
laborious,  uncertain  career  with  one  who 
was  beginning  at  the  bottom  of  a  badly 
underpaid  profession  —  this  was  a  prospect 
[22] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

that  might  well  have  awakened  her  friends' 
anxiety.  That  she  could  unfalteringly 
make  such  a  decision  is  enough  to  humble 
and  exalt  for  a  lifetime  the  lover  who 
received  the  gift. 

Together  with  her  mother,  brother,  and 
sister,  she  spent  the  summer  of  1887  among 
the  scenes  and  the  friends  of  her  mother's 
girlhood  in  Maine.  Then,  until  about  the 
holidays,  she  was  again  at  work  with  her 
music  at  Boston.  Her  return  to  Alameda 
at  the  holiday  season  marks  a  period  in  her 
development.  Her  piano  execution  has 
grown  firmer,  the  history  and  theory  of 
music  have  been  opened  to  her,  and  her 
whole  aesthetic  horizon  has  been  enlarged. 
She  signalizes  the  home-coming  by  giving 
a  public  recital  which  brings  her  no  little 
honor  from  her  townspeople. 

As  to  the  future,  —  ah !  what  but  love 
is  strong  enough  to  dare  so  much  ? 


[23] 


LOS   ANGELES 

1888-1890 


w 


E  knew  that  a  bar  was  broken  between 
Life  and  life  ;  we  were  mixed  at  last 
In  spite  of  the  mortal  screen. 

Robert  Browning. 


S 


HINE!  Shine!  Shine! 
Pour  down  your  warmth,  great  sun  ! 
While  we  bask,  we  two  together. 


D 


Two  together  ! 

Winds  blow  south,  or  winds  blwv  north, 
Day  come  white,  or  night  come  black, 
Home,  or  rivers  and  mountains  from  home, 
Singing  all  time,  minding  no  time, 
While  we  two  keep  together. 

Walt  Whitman. 

OES  the  road  wind  uphill  all  the  way  ? 

Yes,  to  the  very  end. 

Will  the  day's  journey  take  the  whole  long  day  ? 
From  morn  to  night,  my  friend. 

Christina  Georgina  Rossetti. 


EARLY  in  the  summer  of  1888  I 
accepted  a  humble  post  in  the 
University  of  Southern  California 
at  Los  Angeles,  and  she  consented  to 
share  my  life  there  from  the  start.  We 
were  married  at  the  home  of  her  parents 
in  Alameda,  September  3,  in  the  presence 
of  relatives  and  a  few  friends.  The  offici 
ating  clergyman  was  an  old  friend  of  the 
family,  the  Rev.  Robert  Bentley,  D.D. 
He  was  an  alumnus  of  Northwestern,  and 
Mrs.  Bentley  is  also  an  alumnus  through 
graduation  from  the  old  Female  College 
that  became  many  years  ago  a  part  of  the 
University.1 

After  enduring  the  discomforts  of  board 
ing  for  most  of  the  first  college  year,  we 
had  the  joy  of  building  a  little  nest  of 
our  own,  a  six-room  cottage  of  a  type  then 

1  At  the  alumni  reunion  of  1905  it  was  my  pleasure  to 
discover  Mrs.  Bentley  in  the  procession.  Dr.  Bentley  passed 
into  the  unseen  several  years  ago. 

[27] 


MEMOIR 

everywhere  to  be  seen  in  Los  Angeles. 
At  last  we  had  our  own  fireside,  our  own 
flower-garden,  and  the  exquisite  sense  of 
proprietorship  in  a  home.  What  a  joy  it 
was  to  have  a  place  for  our  friends  about 
our  own  open  fire  ! 

The  topics  of  conversation  were  not 
always  of  a  cheer-bringing  sort.  For  the 
college  with  which  I  was  connected  was 
then  mostly  raw  edges,  and  the  financial 
management  was  wretched.  Aside  from 
the  pleasure  of  helping  to  develop  our 
students,  the  chief  comfort  of  the  official 
situation  was  a  fellowship  between  the 
professors  that  was  made  all  the  deeper 
by  the  discouraging  conditions.  All  in 
all,  the  two  years  that  Mrs.  Coe  and  I 
spent  in  Los  Angeles  seemed  to  us  in 
after-years  to  have  been  a  time  of  test 
ing  and  preparation.  We  were  not  tried 
more  than  others,  we  simply  bore  our 
share  of  the  general  discomfort.  Fortu 
nately,  the  cost  of  living  was  still  low, 
so  that  we  were  more  than  able  to  meet 
expenses  from  the  start.  Our  professional 
aims  also  were  steadily  furthered  from  the 
first.  Best  of  all,  the  pressure  of  hard 
[28] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

conditions  made  only  so  much  the  firmer 
the  personal  relations  between  one  and 
one  that  are  the  foundation  of  happy 
home  life. 

During  the  first  season  she  devoted  her 
self  to  piano  practice  and  playing.  By  the 
spring  of  1889  she  had  won  recognition, 
and  the  piano  department  of  the  institu 
tion  was  offered  to  her.  We  had  reason 
to  believe  that  one  cause  of  this  offer 
was  the  profound  impression  made  by  her 
playing  upon  a  large  college  audience. 

What  the  position  was  to  amount  to 
depended  on  her  own  efforts  and  manage 
ment.  She  had  entire  charge  of  both  the 
musical  and  the  business  sides  of  the  de 
partment.  Then  began  to  appear  her 
power  both  as  a  teacher  and  as  an  admin 
istrator.  In  spite  of  adverse  conditions 
growing  out  of  the  past  of  the  department, 
pupils  flocked  to  her  until  her  time  was 
full.  At  the  end  of  the  year,  after  she 
had  turned  over  to  the  institution  its 
liberal  proportion  of  the  returns,  she  had 
the  satisfaction  of  having  earned  an  in 
come  almost  equal  to  her  husband's  salary. 
She  more  than  earned  it,  for  she  put  into 
[29] 


her  occupation  not  only  skill,  but  also 
heart  and  conscience  that  are  above  price. 
She  laid  stress  upon  musical  theory  and 
history,  both  of  which  she  taught  in  con 
nection  with  piano.  She  went  to  great 
pains  to  procure  the  necessary  material 
for  such  teaching,  among  other  things 
raising  money  herself  for  the  founding  of 
a  library  of  works  on  music.  The  effect 
iveness  of  her  teaching  was  cordially  rec 
ognized  at  the  time,  and  several  years 
later  two  of  her  Los  Angeles  pupils  fol 
lowed  her  to  Evanston. 

She  had  found  a  calling,  a  profession. 
For  years  she  had  hoped  for  it,  and  this 
is  a  part  of  the  explanation  of  her  long, 
severe  self-discipline.  We  had  married 
with  a  mutual  understanding  of  her  am 
bition,  and  neither  of  us  ever  for  a  moment 
regretted  it.  To  work  side  by  side  in  our 
respective  professions  seemed  to  us  to 
be  at  once  destiny  and  duty  and  highest 
happiness.  The  year  that  confirmed  her 
hopes  by  demonstrating  her  ability  to 
succeed  in  the  musical  profession  has  al 
ways  been  to  me  a  joyful  memory  in  spite 
of  the  discomforts  to  which  I  have  referred. 
[30] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

Before  the  year  was  over  both  of  us 
were  longing  for  opportunity  for  foreign 
study.  We  hesitated  to  embark  on  such 
.an  enterprise  with  our  slender  capital, 
however,  until  one  day  —  a  day  of  never- 
to-be-forgotten  joy  —  word  came  that  I 
had  been  appointed  to  a  travelling  fellow 
ship  of  Boston  University.  The  home 
was  favorably  disposed  of,  and  after  a  visit 
in  Alameda  we  turned  our  faces  toward 
Germany,  the  Mecca  of  the  student. 


[31] 


BERLIN 

1890-1893 


if  we  still  ride  on,  we  two, 
With  life  forever  old  yet  new, 
Changed  not  in  kind  bid  in  degree, 
The  instant  made  eternity,  — 
And  heaven  just  prove  that  I  and  she 
Ride,  ride  together,  forever  ride  ? 

Robert  Browning. 


WHAT  better  landing-place  for 
untravelled  travellers  than 
Holland?  Here,  early  in 
August,  1890,  we  find  ourselves  almost 
intoxicated  with  our  first  and  freshest 
experiences  of  the  Old  World.  After  a 
little  tour  of  the  land  of  dikes,  we  settle 
down  for  a  few  weeks  in  Gottingen  before 
beginning  work  in  Berlin.  Before  me 
lies  a  note-book  in  which  Mrs.  Coe  kept 
a  fairly  complete  record  of  impressions 
and  events  for  the  first  several  months 
in  Europe.  It  shows,  not  less  clearly 
than  my  own  memory,  how  sharp  were 
the  eyes,  how  studious  the  mind,  how 
genial  the  humor  with  which  she  en 
countered  her  new  experiences. 

A  month  or  so  of  piano  practice  and 
German  grammar,  a  visit  to  the  Passion 
Play  at  Oberammergau  (how  rich  it  was 
in  new  impressions !),  and  then  Berlin, 
the  treasure-house  of  opportunity !  There 
[35] 


MEMOIR 

was  no  limit  to  the  enthusiasm  with  which 
she  went  at  her  work.  Her  primary  ob 
ject  was  to  study  piano  with  Professor 
Heinrich  Barth.  If  she  could  secure  ad 
mission  to  the  Royal  College  of  Music 
(Konigliche  Hochschule  fur  Musik)  she 
could  have  the  desired  piano  lessons  and 
many  other  advantages  at  slight  expense. 
Barth,  after  privately  testing  her  playing, 
her  ear,  and  her  knowledge  of  harmony, 
advised  her  to  apply  for  admission.  Un 
successful  in  her  first  effort,  she  worked 
privately  with  Professor  Barth  until 
Easter,  when  she  secured  the  desired 
privilege.  Her  description  of  the  unsuc 
cessful  examination  is  worth  giving  in  the 
words  of  her  note-book. 

"Yesterday,  October  1,  went  through  ordeal 
of  examination  at  Hochschule.  Went  at  9  A.  M. 
Found  crowd  of  applicants  in  all  stages  of  nervous 
ness  —  girls  with  one  parent,  some  flanked  by  both 
parents,  others  supported  by  friends.  Girls  had 
taken  their  gloves  off;  some  were  nervously 
wriggling  the  fingers.  List  of  names  in  hall ;  my 
number,  49.  Grew  faint  and  nervous  ;  went  out 
on  piazza..  Barth  came  along  nonchalantly  smok 
ing  cigar  as  if  it  were  an  everyday  occurrence,  saw 
me,  came  and  shook  hands  cordially.  Told  him 
[36] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

my  number  was  49,  when  he  told  me  I  might  as 
well  go  home  and  return  at  12,  as  my  turn  would 
not  come  until  after  that  time.  Returned  at  12. 
Found  the  girls  who  were  still  to  play  looking 
more  distracted  than  they  did  at  9.  Some  seemed 
to  be  in  tears.  My  courage  gradually  oozed  out 
at  my  finger  ends.  There  was  a  pause  then  of 
half  an  hour.  At  12 : 45  the  examination  went 
on,  beginning  with  number  41.  Large  waiting- 
room  ;  applicants  with  parents  and  friends.  Many 
stood  waiting  their  turn  in  little  entry  outside  of 
music  room  where  examination  was  being  held. 
Two  were  admitted  at  a  time,  so  that  there  might 
be  no  waits  between.  Finally  it  came  turn  of  48 
and  49.  48  was  a  young  American  or  English 
man  with  a  wonderful  execution.  While  he  played 
I  sat  near  the  door,  feeling  as  if  I  were  waiting 
my  turn  to  have  a  tooth  pulled.  The  young  man 
played  with  his  notes,  as,  to  my  great  surprise, 
many  others  did,  and  when  he  had  finished  he 
was  mercilessly  stood  in  a  corner  while  the  pro 
fessors  threw  chords  at  him,  that  is,  whacked  them 
on  the  piano  and  asked  him  what  they  were.  Poor 
fellow  !  He  looked  utterly  crushed,  as  I  felt  when 
it  came  my  turn  to  be  put  through  the  same 
process,  arid  I  failed  in  it  as  gloriously  as  he  did. 
He  was  told  to  come  Friday,  at  1  P.  M.,  which  is 
said  to  mean  that  you  are  admitted,  and  my  turn 
had  come.  The  seven  piano  professors  sat  around 
a  table,  with  pens,  ink,  and  paper  before  them. 
When  I  went  in,  Barth  turned,  bowed,  and 
smiled  in  a  reassuring  way.  Professor,  evidently 
[37] 


MEMOIR 

the  director  of  department,  pleasantly  motioned 
me  to  the  piano.  On  the  way  was  stopped  by 
having  this  question  thrown  at  me  in  German  by 
one  of  the  professors.  '  How  do  you  pronounce 
your  name  ? ' l  Did  not  understand  at  first.  Ques 
tion  was  repeated.  Then  I  replied  in  English. 
Professor  (in  German)  in  a  very  belligerent  tone : 
'  You  speak  no  German  at  all  ? '  'I  speak  a  little.' 
*  But '  —  interrupting  — '  don't  you  know  that  we 
speak  only  German  here?'  'I  do  understand 
some  German  and  am  studying '  —  here  a  sneering 
'Humph' — 'and  am  sure  that  in  two  or  three 
weeks  I  shall  understand  well.'  Upon  which  I 
was  greeted  with  a  scornful  laugh  of  derision  in 
which  several  of  the  other  inquisitors  —  no,  I 
mean  the  professors — joined.  This  added  insult 
to  injury.  Turned  my  back  on  the  whole  lot  and 
went  to  the  piano.  There  were  two  grands  — 
Steinways,  by  the  way.  Steinway  has  a  factory 
in  Hamburg  (?)  and  his  pianos  here  are  called 
'  Steinweg.'  I  played  same  sonata  which  I  played 
for  Earth  —  was  allowed  to  play  a  small  part  of 
each  movement.  Then  my  ear  was  tested.  Barth 
struck  chord  and  said,  'Major  or  minor?'  I 
managed  to  perceive  that  it  was  minor,  and  said 
so,  but  when  I  was  asked  to  tell  to  which  key  it 
belonged,  I  could  n't  have  done  it  if  my  life  had 
depended  upon  it,  I  was  so  completely  unnerved 
and  utterly  unable  to  think.  This  part  of  the 


1  Germans  always  had  trouble  with  our  name.     They 
took  it  to  be  either  Koh-eh  or  Koh. 

[38] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

examination  was  not  continued,  and  I  was  also 
told  to  come  on  Friday  at  1  o'clock.  Test  is 
really  the  playing.  The  whole  ordeal  is  terrible  ! 
Am  not  surprised  that  so  few  Americans  attempt 
it.  Girls  came  out  looking  utterly  unnerved  and 
exhausted.  I  suffered  for  hours  afterwards  with 
a  severe  nervous  headache." 

It  appears  that  only  about  a  third  of 
those  who  took  the  examination  at  this 
time  secured  admission,  and  that  scarcely 
one  of  the  several  American  applicants,  if 
any  at  all,  was  of  the  fortunate  number. 

Mrs.  Coe  plunged  at  once  into  private 
lessons  with  Professor  Barth.  The  rate 
at  which  she  worked  may  be  gathered 
from  a  note  that  recites  the  material  that 
she  traversed  in  the  first  eleven  or  twelve 
lessons.  In  addition  to  abundant  technical 
studies,  she  had  worked  up  Bach's  G  minor 
Fantasie  ;  Schubert's  Impromptu,  op.  142, 
no.  4 ;  Henselt's  Berceuse ;  six  of  Bach's 
Inventions,  and  two  Beethoven  sonatas, 
op.  10,  no.  2,  and  op.  14,  no.  2.  As  it 
was  her  custom  to  play  her  pieces  from 
memory  the  first  time  she  appeared  with 
them,  it  is  not  improbable  that  all  the 
compositions  in  this  list  were  memorized. 
[39] 


MEMOIR 

Of  Professor  Earth's  courtesy  and 
kindliness  her  notes  repeatedly  speak. 
Yet  the  severity  of  his  methods  is  well 
known.  It  seems  that  he  made  a  distinc 
tion  between  pupils.  Those  who  pursued 
music  simply  as  an  accomplishment  were 
handled  with  relative  gentleness,  but  those 
who  named  professional  aims,  as  she  did, 
were  given  the  tonic  of  harsh  experience. 
Many  were  the  tales  of  suffering  told  by 
his  pupils.  But  for  the  fruits  of  this 
method,  a  well-established  technic,  Mrs. 
Coe  never  ceased  to  be  grateful  to  her 
teacher.  The  details  of  this  technic  are, 
of  course,  beyond  my  ken,  but  I  know 
that  she  learned  how  to  play  for  any 
length  of  time  without  muscular  weari 
ness,  that  the  secret  of  this  lies,  in  general, 
in  the  complete  relaxation  of  each  muscle 
except  at  the  instant  of  using  it,  and 
that  this  method  prevents  the  harshness  of 
tone  that  characterized  the  old-fashioned 
technic  of  raised,  hammer-like  fingers  and 
stiff  wrist  and  arm. 

The  second  examination  at  the  Hoch- 
schule  went  happily,  and  now,  in  addition 
to  lessons  with  Barth,  she  was  expected 
[40] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

to  study  history  of  music,  theory,  and 
ensemble  playing.  But  she  was  already 
so  far  advanced  in  history  that  Professor 
Spitta  excused  her  from  that  subject. 
She  was  promptly  put  into  one  of  Pro 
fessor  Succo's  advanced  classes  in  theory, 
and  in  Professor  Bargiel's  ensemble  class 
she  quickly  gained  recognition.  The  en 
semble  lessons  were,  indeed,  among  the 
happiest  of  her  experiences  in  the  school. 

With  Frau  Steinmann,  mother  of  Pro 
fessor  Earth,  and  with  Professor  and  Mrs. 
Succo,  there  sprung  up  a  warm  personal 
friendship.  Professor  Succo's  interest  in 
her  began  in  appreciation  of  her  work 
in  theory,  harmony,  and  composition,  but 
it  grew  into  appreciation  of  her  whole 
personality.  She  became  a  glad  guest  at 
his  home,  and  until  his  death  it  was  her 
delight  to  send  and  receive  letters  and 
holiday  tokens. 

How  she  revelled  in  concert  and  opera  ! 
Von  Biilow  was  then  conductor  of  the 
Philharmonic  Orchestra ;  Joachim's  quar 
tette  and  Earth's  trio  were  offering  the 
acme  of  chamber  music  ;  the  Royal  Opera 
was  brilliant,  particularly  in  the  Wagnerian 
[41] 


works.  Her  joy  in  them  all  was  not  less, 
but  greater,  because  of  the  solid  purpose 
with  which  she  listened.  The  profound 
emotional  effect  that  music  produced  upon 
her  did  not  deter  her  from  studying,  even 
as  she  enjoyed.  Both  her  notes  and  her 
remembered  conversations  testify  to  this, 
and  here,  it  seems  to  me,  is  to  be  found 
the  clue  to  the  unusual  breadth  of  musical 
interest  and  appreciation  that  she  dis 
played  in  subsequent  years. 

She  was  nearer  right  than  the  piano 
professor  guessed  when  she  said  that  in 
two  or  three  weeks  she  thought  she  should 
understand  German  in  her  lessons.  She 
was  not  unacquainted  with  the  elements  of 
the  language  when  she  first  went  abroad, 
and  she  continued  to  study  it  in  the  con 
ventional  fashion  after  she  reached  Ger 
many.  But  her  musical  ear  and  her 
extraordinarily  rapid  perception  enabled 
her  to  outstrip,  in  hearing  and  in  speech, 
every  other  student  of  German  known  to 
me.  She  acquired  the  language  as  a  child 
acquires  it.  This  implies,  of  course,  only 
gradual  approximation  to  grammatical 
exactness,  but  meantime  there  was  a  re- 
[42] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

markably  fluent  use  of  the  idiom.  "  Frau 
Coe,  where  did  you  learn  that  idiom  ? " 
her  German  friends  asked  again  and  again, 
and  the  answer  was  that  she  had  simply 
picked  it  up  from  conversations  to  which 
she  had  listened. 

So  passed  rapidly  away  her  first  season 
in  Berlin.  Witli  the  coming  of  summer, 
the  mail  brought  me  an  unexpected  call  to 
Northwestern  University.  I  had  hoped 
to  spend  at  least  one  year  more  in  Ger 
many,  but  the  proffered  chair  accorded  so 
well  with  my  desires  that  I  said  to  Mrs. 
Coe,  "  I  will  go,  but  you  must  remain 
and  finish  your  work.  I  will  return  each 
summer. "  It  was  my  own  first  thought,  but 
my  second  thought  and  all  my  thoughts 
have  approved  that  decision.  Neither  of 
us  could  have  endured  the  separation  for 
any  light  reason.  But,  assuming  that  each 
had  an  individual  talent  and  an  individual 
work  to  do,  we  knew  that  we  could  afford 
the  personal  cost  of  the  best  preparation 
that  was  available  to  either  one. 

That  summer,  1891,  we  spent  together 
in  a  long  tour  of  Germany.  Upon  my 
return  the  following  summer  we  travelled 
[43] 


in  Austria,  Italy,  and  Switzerland,  and  in 
the  summer  of  1 893  we  journeyed  north 
ward  to  Denmark,  Norway,  the  North 
Cape,  Scotland,  and  England.  The 
autumn  of  that  year  finds  us  together  in 
Evanston  with  no  more  long  separations 
—  except  one  —  before  us. 

The  second  and  third  seasons  in  Berlin 
had  been  passed  as  agreeably  as  the  cir 
cumstances  permitted.  In  the  Pension 
of  Fraulein  Kirstein  she  formed  pleasant 
friendships,  not  least  that  of  the  Fraulein 
herself.  Journeys  to  Paris  and  Dresden 
and  study  of  the  great  art  museums  re 
lieved  the  routine  of  duty.  After  two 
seasons  with  Barth,  she  turned,  for  the 
sake  of  variety  on  the  musical,  as  distin 
guished  from  the  technical,  side  of  playing, 
to  Moritz  Moskowski,  who  at  that  time 
resided  in  Berlin.  She  greatly  enjoyed 
his  teaching  and  many  of  his  personal 
ways.  One  of  her  letters  paints  a  picture 
of  how,  in  the  midst  of  a  lesson,  the  barber 
was  announced.  Moskowski  excused  him 
self,  was  gone  only  a  few  minutes,  and 
then  returned  with  a  fleck  of  lather  on 
his  ear !  When  he  was  absent  from  town 
[44] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

on  a  concert  tour,  she  took  the  oppor 
tunity  to  "widen  her  acquaintance  with 
men  and  methods  by  studying  for  a  while 
with  Jedliczka,  who  was  then  just  begin 
ning  to  acquire  his  fame  as  a  teacher. 

Her  letters,  not  only  at  this  time,  but 
from  the  first  one  that  my  eyes  ever  rested 
upon,  had  a  concreteness,  vivacity,  and 
humor  all  their  own.  It  was  the  artistic 
temperament,  I  doubt  not,  finding  ex 
pression  for  itself  in  spite  of  the  general 
decay  of  the  fine  art  of  letter-writing. 
Several  years  ago  we  held  a  consultation 
as  to  what  should  be  done  with  our  letters 
—  hers  and  mine  —  of  which  there  was 
a  large  accumulation.  The  consultation 
was  occasioned  by  our  reading  the  pub 
lished  letters  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Browning. 
Though  we  had  no  fear  of  attaining  a  like 
fame,  we  asked  ourselves  whether  we  were 
willing  that  anyone  else  should  ever  see 
that  which  we  had  written  only  for  each 
other's  eyes.  Both  masses  of  letters  went 
into  the  furnace. 

In  addition  to  the  ordinary  fruits  of 
travel,  she  brings  back  to  the  home-land 
firm,  well-rounded,  independent  musician- 
[45] 


MEMOIR 

ship.  As  far  as  I  know,  she  never  enter 
tained  a  hope  of  becoming  a  piano  virtuoso. 
Her  ambition  had  always  been  directed 
primarily  toward  teaching.  But  teaching 
meant  very  much  more  to  her  than  "  giv 
ing  lessons."  She  held  that  a  piano  teacher 
should  be,  ordinarily,  an  artist  if  not  a 
virtuoso,  and  her  three  years  in  Germany 
had  equipped  her  for  maintaining  this 
standard.  Her  technical  method  was  up 
to  the  most  modern  ideas,  and  her  own  ex 
ecution  was  brilliant.  Her  acquaintance 
with  the. literature  of  music  was  wide,  and 
in  the  analysis  and  interpretation  of  that 
literature  she  had  both  intellectual  insight 
and  sound  musical  sense. 

The  student  days  are  over,  and  now 
she  determines  to  establish  a  private  studio 
where  she  may  work  out  her  ideas  un 
hampered  by  scholastic  traditions  or  ad 
ministrative  machinery.1 

1  In  fairness  to  Mrs.  Coe  it  is  necessary  to  say  that 
throughout  this  story  I  am  giving  my  own  impressions,  not 
her  opinions.  I  have  not  sufficient  knowledge  of  music  to 
justify  an  attempt  to  reproduce  her  points  of  view,  much 
as  I  would  like  to  do  it  here  and  there.  All  that  I  can  do  is 
to  paint  the  thing  as  I  see  it  from  my  musically  untechnical 
point  of  view. 

[46] 


EVANSTON 

1893-1905 


71    /IT  Y  own,  see  where  the  years  conduct  ! 
I  ft     At  first  'twas  something  our  two  souls 
Should  mix  as  mists  do  :  each  is  sucked 
Into  each  now  ;  on,  the  new  stream  rolls, 
Whatever  rocks  obstruct. 

Think,  when  our  one  soul  understands 

The  great  Word  which  makes  all  things  new  — 

When  earth  breaks  up  and  Heaven  expands  — 
How  will  the  change  strike  me  and  you 

In  the  House  not  made  with  hands  ? 

Oh,  I  must  feel  your  brain  prompt  mine, 

Your  heart  anticipate  my  heart, 
You  must  be  just  before,  in  fine, 

See  and  make  me  see,  for  your  part, 
New  depths  of  the  Divine  ! 

Robert  Browning. 


IN  spite  of  setbacks  to  health  incident 
to  the  change  to  Evanston's  stimulat 
ing  climate,  she  was  able,  during  her 
first  season,  that  of  1893-94,  to  do  consider 
able  playing  and  to  gather  a  larger  class 
of  pupils  than  one  could  have  expected. 
Already  a  good  basis  was  laid  for  financial 
success,  and  there  was  eveiy  prospect  that 
her  enterprise  would  develop  according  to 
her  hopes. 

But  to  carry  out  her  plan  of  private 
work  would  have  involved  the  diversion 
of  patronage  from  the  University  School 
of  Music,  which  was  then  small  and  weak 
and  struggling  against  adverse  conditions. 
She  was  asked  to  transfer  her  work  to  the 
School.  My  relation  to  the  University 
gave  force  to  strong  persuasives  that  came 
from  official  circles.  Reluctantly  she  con 
sented,  sacrificing  cherished  plans  rather 
than  create  complications  of  unknown 
degrees  of  discomfort  to  all  concerned. 
[49] 


MEMOIR 

Her  contribution  to  the  upbuilding  of  a 
school  of  music  in  Evanston  can  be  appre 
ciated  only  by  one  who  understands  what 
details  of  labor  and  sacrifice  are  demanded 
by  any  such  enterprise.  She  carried 
into  the  School  a  good-sized  class  of 
pupils ;  because  the  School  lacked  space, 
being  then  housed  as  an  interloper  in 
Woman's  Hall,  she  taught  her  pupils  in 
her  own  home  for  nearly  three  years  with 
out  compensation  for  rental ;  she  carried 
the  name  of  the  School  into  large  circles 
through  her  outside  activities  ;  she  labored 
loyally,  indefatigably,  skilfully,  with  her 
pupils,  in  the  recitals,  and  wherever  there 
was  opportunity  to  help  build  up  the 
institution. 

Little  or  nothing  had  been  done  with 
history  of  music  ;  she  took  up  the  subject 
and  made  it  a  living,  organic  part  of  the 
course  of  study.  At  first  she  taught  the 
subject  for  the  love  of  it,  receiving  no 
compensation  whatever.  There  was  no 
musical  library  or  any  systematic  plan 
for  purchasing  books  on  music  for  the 
general  University  library ;  she  assumed 
that  care  also,  making  up  the  purchasing- 
[50] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

lists  from  time  to  time,  and  securing 
the  transfer  to  Music  Hall  of  the  works 
that  were  most  in  demand.  The  pov 
erty  of  musical  periodicals  she  alleviated 
by  regularly  turning  over  some  or  all 
of  her  own.  She  helped  on  everything 
that  made  for  broad  policy  and  high 
standards.  The  string  quartette  in  its 
long  struggle  for  existence  found  in  her  a 
staunch  supporter.  She  was  the  first  to 
advocate  the  requirement  of  literary  stand 
ards  and  studies  in  connection  with  music, 
and  she  never  wavered  in  her  allegiance  to 
that  principle.  She  stood  against  permit 
ting  students  to  evade  standards  as  defined 
in  the  published  curriculum.  She  resisted 
the  temptation  (that  comes,  no  doubt,  to 
all  struggling  schools  of  this  class)  to  ac 
commodate  or  administer  standards  in  the 
interest  of  large  student-lists  and  large 
financial  returns.  To  stand  thus  in  abso 
lute  sincerity  for  one's  art  and  for  edu 
cational  principle  in  schools  of  music  that 
are  entirely  dependent  upon  income  from 
tuition  fees  is  never  easy  or  without  its 
cost. 

Her  teaching  met  almost  instant  recog- 
[51] 


nition,  and  before  long  the  lesson  hours  of 
pupils  were  encroaching  upon  her  precious 
practice.  Yet  she  found  time  not  only 
to  teach,  but  also  to  play,  to  read  widely 
in  musical  history,  biography,  and  criticism, 
to  conduct  musical  courses  for  women's 
clubs,  write  lectures,  give  lecture-recitals, 
write  for  the  press,  and  finally  to  compose. 
The  amount  of  work  that  she  turned  off 
from  1894  on  may  fairly  be  called  pro 
digious.  It  was  a  wonder  to  me  day  by 
day,  and  the  wonder  increases  now  that  I 
contemplate  the  period  as  a  whole.  Often 
I  feared  for  her  health,  but  my  attempted 
warnings  were  met  by  the  stubborn  fact 
of  obvious  and  increasing  robustness  of 
health.  From  a  girlhood  and  youth 
somewhat  inclined  to  frailty,  she  rose  in 
her  mature  womanhood  to  such  abound 
ing  vigor  as  one  rarely  sees,  even  in  this 
era  of  healthy  women. 

She  was  an  instinctively  good  teacher. 
Exacting  in  the  fundamentals  of  technic, 
yet  always  insisting  that  skill  should  be 
only  a  means  for  expressing  an  intelligent 
musical  sense ;  always  going  back  from 
symptoms  to  causes,  and  forward  from 
[52] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

principles  to  rules  and  methods  ;  unweary- 
ingly  fond  of  young  life  and  of  seeing  it 
grow  ;  consulting  her  pupils'  interests  first 
and  her  own  last,  and  never  failing  to  see 
that  genuine  accomplishments  must  have 
their  root  in  a  worthy  personality  and  bear 
fruit  in  the  enlargement  of  true  life  —  she 
was  far  removed  from  everything  merely 
perfunctory,  mechanical,  or  narrowly  pro 
fessional.  Again  and  again  she  remarked 
that  such  or  such  a  pupil  could  play  if  she 
only  had  personality,  or  moral  earnestness, 
or  life-experience  enough.  Thus  it  was 
that  she  took  an  interest  in  the  whole  life- 
course  of  her  pupils,  and  not  merely  in 
their  music ;  thus  it  was  that  she  became 
a  vitalizing  force  in  their  personality.  She 
never  shrank  from  being  known  as  a  severe 
teacher,  however,  for  she  knew  the  cost  of 
genuine  success  and  how  alone  strong 
personality  is  attained.  A  part  of  her 
reward  she  was  able  to  enjoy  as  she  went 
along.  She  saw  an  unusual  number  of 
her  pupils  blossom  into  able  players ;  she 
felt  the  love  of  a  great  number  of  sincere 
hearts ;  best  of  all,  she  saw  character  un 
fold  through  music  study.  Some  of  the 
[53]  ' 


MEMOIR 

parents  of  her  pupils  saw  what  was  happen 
ing.  One  of  her  last  joys  on  earth  was  to 
receive  from  such  a  parent  a  letter  filled 
with  appreciation  of  this  broad  educational 
effect  of  her  work. 

The  freshness  of  her  teaching  was  due, 
in  a  measure,  to  her  lifelong  habit  of 
searching  for  new  material.  She  was  not 
satisfied  with  any  stereotyped  series  of 
student  pieces  and  programmes.  I  believe 
that  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  she  was 
acquainted  with  the  whole  vast  range  of 
serious  compositions  for  the  piano,  and 
that  she  kept  fully  abreast  of  new  works 
in  this  field  by  indefatigable  search. 

Students  who  were  struggling  with  the 
problem  of  meagre  resources,  whether  they 
were  her  own  pupils  or  not,  found  practi 
cal  sympathy.  She  obtained  opportunities 
for  employment  for  them,  and  there  was 
rarely,  if  ever,  a  year  that  she  did  not  carry 
at  least  one  free  pupil  on  her  teaching-list. 
This  continued  even  after  she  began  to  be 
paid  a  fixed  salary  ;  it  was  not  the  School, 
but  the  teacher  upon  whom  the  cost  of 
free  lessons  fell.  Into  the  struggles  of 
these  young  persons  she  entered  with  a 
[54] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

royal  heart.    One  of  them  writes,  "  I  have 
lost  the  best  friend  I  shall  ever  have." 

Her  playing  during  these  years  showed 
both  an  increasing  range  of  musical  feeling 
and  a  maturing  control  of  the  means  of 
expression.  There  was  a  time  when  play 
ing  consisted  in  the  neat,  rippling,  velvety 
rendition  of  pieces,  but  she  transcended 
this  when,  partly  through  the  broadening 
of  her  technic,  but  largely  through  a  study 
of  Wagner  that  started  in  Germany  and 
continued  to  the  end,  she  came  to  realize 
the  deep  relation  of  music  to  life.  Inci 
dentally,  the  attitude  toward  Wagner 
manifested  in  the  School  of  Music  now  as 
compared  with  the  attitude  ten  or  twelve 
years  ago  is  worthy  of  comment.  Then 
Mrs.  Coe  was  alone  in  recognizing  the 
great  significance  of  Wagner's  work ;  to 
day  all  that  she  then  contended  for  is 
assumed  as  a  matter  of  course.  The  influ 
ence  of  the  Wagnerian  movement  upon 
her  was  profound.  It  changed  her  whole 
musical  horizon  and  opened  a  new  world 
of  musical  realities.  I  base  this  statement 
solely  on  my  own  observation  of  her  de 
velopment,  for,  as  far  as  I  know,  she  never 
[55] 


MEMOIR 

attempted  a  self-analysis.  I  cannot  better 
describe  my  impression  than  by  saying 
that  music  became  for  her  more  and  more 
an  essentially  dramatic  expression  of  hu 
man  feeling.  It  took  on  more  of  movement 
and  action,  and  it  strove  for  organization 
and  unity  and  climax. 

This,  I  think,  is  the  explanation  of  her 
tendency  away  from  the  more  conven 
tional  "  pieces  "  toward  ensemble  playing 
and  toward  the  relatively  free  compositions 
of  the  modern  schools.  Without  losing 
appreciation  for  the  classically  regular 
forms,  she  took  an  absorbing  interest  in 
other  types.  She  was  the  means  of  intro 
ducing  not  a  few  fresh  works,  some  of 
them  heard  here  for  the  first  time  in  the 
West.  One  of  her  note-books  contains 
the  following  quotation,  which  seems  to 
give  a  clue  to  her  own  thought :  "  Music 
is  pre-eminently  the  art  of  the  nineteenth 
century  because  it  is  in  a  supreme  manner 
responsive  to  the  emotional  wants,  the 
mixed  aspirations,  and  the  passionate  self- 
consciousness  of  the  age." 

This  growth  in  the  meaning  of  music 
was  reflected  in  her  playing.  The  dra- 
[56] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

matic  sense  of  which  I  have  spoken  put 
into  her  interpretations  intense  lights  and 
shadows  —  too  intense  for  some  eyes,  per 
haps,  yet  always  what  the  eyes  of  her 
own  brilliant  imagination  really  saw  in 
the  composition.  It  made  correspond 
ingly  heavy  demands  of  a  technical  sort. 
The  minute  and  patient  care  with  which 
she  worked  up  every  little  detail  of  a  com 
position,  and  then  put  all  the  parts  to 
gether  into  an  organic  whole,  is  a  part  of 
the  explanation  of  a  certain  mastery  of  the 
instrument  that  was  often  commented 
upon.  To  me,  and  in  some  measure  to 
her,  there  was  a  pathetic  side  to  all  this 
because  of  the  merely  temporal  character 
of  executive  musical  art.  To  spend  weeks, 
sometimes  months,  in  rounding  off  one's 
execution  of  a  composition,  and  then, 
after  a  public  appearance  or  two,  to  have 
nothing  to  show  for  the  work  —  this  is 
the  musician's  fate.  The  waves  of  the 
ocean  will  go  on  rolling,  but  where  are 
the  waves  of  yesterday? 

Her  catholicity  of  taste,  her  feeling  for 
the  human  life-forces  in  music,  gave  vital 
ity  to  her  history-teaching.    The  history  of 
[57] 


MEMOIR 

music  was  to  her,  not  a  set  of  dry  annals, 
but  an  entering  into  the  enjoyment  of 
music  in  all  its  stages  and  forms.  Every 
thing  was  concrete,  and  in  a  sense  modern. 
By  song,  by  instrumental  rendition,  by 
the  exhibition  of  instruments,  by  charts 
and  pictures  and  story,  the  wealth  of  her 
imagination  was  conveyed  to  her  hearers. 
No  wonder  that  her  course  grew  in  popu 
larity,  had  to  be  extended,  and  was  finally 
supplemented  by  a  second  course. 

The  culminating  point  each  year,  and 
one  of  her  favorite  subjects  for  lecture- 
recitals,  was  the  Wagner  operas  and  music 
dramas,  which  she  analyzed  from  the  score. 
Upon  these  she  lavished  labor  year  after 
year,  never  ceasing  to  work  out  new 
points  and  to  read  the  new  literature  of 
the  subject.  And  this  is  only  typical  of 
the  enthusiasm  with  which  she  ransacked 
many  a  phase  .  of  music  history.  The 
manuscript  notes  of  her  lectures,  besides 
treating  of  various  periods  and  composers, 
the  various  musical  forms  and  instruments, 
and  the  analysis  of  Wagner's  works,  in 
clude  several  special  topics,  such  as  "  Pro 
gramme  Music,  or  Music  as  a  Language/' 
[58] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

"  Colonial  Music  in  America  and  Amer 
ica's  National  Songs,"  "  Primitive  Music," 
and  "  Music  of  the  American  Indians." 
The  large  attention  that  she  ultimately 
gave  to  Indian  music  grew  directly  out  of 
a  general  historical  interest.  She  delved 
into  the  music  of  the  Asiatic  peoples  and 
the  African  tribes  also,  but  no  early  music 
attracted  her  as  did  that  of  our  American 
aborigines. 

It  was  natural  that  her  enthusiasm  for 
music  as  culture-material  should  far  over 
step  the  bounds  of  the  School  of  Music. 
Soon  after  her  return  from  Germany  she 
gave  a  short  series  of  lecture-recitals  at 
several  hospitable  homes.  Later  the 
Evanston  Orchestral  Club  engaged  her 
for  a  course  on  Wagner  and  the  Music 
Dramas.  Then  she  took  the  lead  in  the 
music  work  of  the  Evanston  Woman's 
Club  for  four  seasons.  During  the  season 
of  1898-99  she  gave  a  course  of  illustrated 
lectures  on  selected  topics.  The  follow 
ing  season  she  organized  a  series  of  studies 
and  programmes  on  "  Woman  in  Composi 
tion."  The  third  series  was  "American 
Composers,"  and  the  fourth  season  wit- 
[59] 


MEMOIR 

nessed  an  extended  study  of  the  periods 
of  musical  history.  For  the  various  pro 
grammes,  besides  frequently  participating 
herself,  she  secured  speakers,  singers,  and 
players,  and  in  many  cases  she  went  for 
material  directly  to  the  composer  con 
cerned.  That  every  programme  was 
carried  out  without  a  hitch  is  due  to  her 
unlimited  capacity  for  detail.  What  this 
implies  no  one  can  understand  who  has 
not  tried  to  carry  through  some  correspond 
ing  scheme  of  popular  culture.  As  to  the 
broadly  cultural  influence  of  such  activ 
ities,  one  of  our  foremost  American  com 
posers  said,  "  I  do  not  hesitate  to  give  my 
belief  that  the  most  efficient  factor  for 
music  in  America  now  is  just  that  done 
by  those  clubs,  chiefly,  naturally,  in  the 
Middle  West,  although  there  has  been  a 
surprising  and  healthful  growth  in  the 
same  direction  about  here." 

These  and  other  successes  led  to  an 
appointment  for  two  years  as  chairman 
of  the  music  department  of  the  Illinois 
Federation  of  Women's  Clubs.  At  the 
annual  meeting  of  this  association  at 
Decatur  in  1901  she  gave  an  illustrated 
[60] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

lecture-recital  on  "  The  Music  of  the 
American  Indians."  She  also  took  steps 
toward  a  scheme  for  popular  musical  cul 
ture  by  means  of  travelling  libraries.  Two 
or  three  such  libraries  were  actually  gotten 
together  with  funds  contributed  by  a  lady 
of  means,  but  for  some  reason  the  circula 
tion  of  them  (which  was  not  in  Mrs.  Coe's 
hands)  lagged  and  was  finally  given  up. 

Two  courses  of  Wagner  lecture-recitals 
were  given  before  the  Rogers  Park 
Woman's  Club.  At  the  Chicago  South 
Side  Club,  Wilmette,  Edgewater,  Cham 
paign,  Canton,  San  Francisco,  single 
lecture-recitals  were  given.  This  is  not 
a  complete  list,  but  it  is  sufficient  to 
indicate  the  growth  of  her  influence.  The 
response  to  her  lecture-recitals  was  un 
equivocally  hearty.  The  reason  was  that 
she  had  a  real  message,  that  her  spirit  was 
that  of  sharing  with  others  the  treasures 
that  she  had  found,  and  that  she  was  able 
to  present  a  rich  body  of  material  with 
extraordinary  clearness. 

The  lucidity  with  which  she  wrote  and 
spoke  was  no  happy  accident  of  expression  ; 
it  was  the  outshining  of  a  penetrating  and 
[61] 


MEMOIR 

orderly  intellect.  In  her  case  fulness  of 
feeling  and  of  intuition  were  no  obstacle 
to  intellectuality.  To  whatever  subject 
she  turned  her  attention,  whether  music, 
or  business,  or  religion,  or  domestic  econ 
omy,  she  exhibited  a  keenness  of  analysis 
that  was  ever  a  fresh  wonder  to  me.  Time 
and  again  I  have  been  almost  envious  of 
her  ability  to  see  to  the  heart  of  a  problem 
at  a  glance,  and  to  discover  fresh  foci  for 
the  rational  organization  of  facts.  This 
was  rarely  a  jumping  at  conclusions ;  it 
was  rational  insight.  In  criticism  she  was 
sharp  as  a  Toledo  blade,  yet  her  predom 
inant  tendency  was  nevertheless  affirma 
tive  and  constructive.  All  this  appeared 
in  her  musical  work  as  a  habit  of  seizing 
upon  the  salient  point  and  gathering  about 
it  fact  and  illustration  and  exposition  until 
what  she  wished  to  teach  seemed  almost 
self-evident. 

Her  imagination  was  exceedingly  fertile. 
Now  and  then  there  bubbled  forth  in  the 
presence  of  her  intimate  friends  such  ex 
quisite  mimicry  as  made  one  wonder  what 
would  have  happened  if  her  attention  had 
been  turned  to  the  stage  instead  of  the 
[62] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

piano.  She  constructed  plots  for  novels 
that,  if  her  powers  had  matured  in  that 
direction,  might  well  have  brought  her 
fame  as  an  author.  For  several  years  she 
dreamed  of  a  future  when  she  should  be 
able  to  express  in  literary  or  musical  form 
what  she  felt  within  her.  It  was  doubt 
less  the  manifold  demands  of  her  imme 
diate  situation  that  postponed  for  a  long 
time  the  exercise  of  a  talent  for  composi 
tion  which  Professor  Succo  had  clearly 
recognized.  Sooner  or  later,  it  is  safe  to 
say,  her  exuberant  imagination  was  certain 
to  express  itself  in  original  work. 

The  "  Melodrama  of  Hiawatha "  was  a 
preliminary  and  partial  utterance  of  this 
inner  wealth.  The  subject  and  the  form 
are  easily  accounted  for.  On  a  number  of 
occasions  in  different  states  she  had  played 
the  piano  part  of  Richard  Strauss'  melo 
drama  of  "  Enoch  Arden,"  the  lines  being 
rendered  by  Mrs.  Isabel  Garghill  Beecher. 
This  started  Mrs.  Coe's  interest  in  the 
melodrama  as  a  mode  of  musical  expres 
sion.  She  procured  various  compositions 
of  the  sort,  and  one  of  them,  "  Bergliot," 
the  beautifully  tragic  composition  by 
[63] 


MEMOIR 

Grieg,  with  words  by  Bjornsen,  was  given 
before  the  University  Union,  with  Pro 
fessor  J.  Scott  Clark  as  reader.  Mean 
time  her  studies  of  primitive  music  had 
made  her  acquainted  with  the  entire  cycle 
of  American  Indian  melodies  collected  by 
Mr.  J.  C.  Fillmore,  Miss  Alice  C.  Fletcher, 
and  others.  For  years,  also,  she  had  fol 
lowed  the  discussions  as  to  the  possibility 
of  a  distinctively  American  music  based 
on  folk-material,  whether  Negro,  Indian, 
or  other.  She  was  actively  interested  in 
the  work  of  Mr.  Arthur  Farwell  and  the 
Wa-Wan  Press,  and  in  every  effort  to 
make  use  of  the  Indian  melodies.  Rarely 
did  these  melodies  seem  to  her  to  be 
developed  in  the  spirit  of  the  life-types 
out  of  which  they  sprung.  The  melo 
dramatic  form,  however,  with  a  story  of 
Indian  life  as  text,  and  with  Indian 
melodies  as  the  basis  of  the  music,  seemed 
to  be  worth  trying. 

She  turned  to  Longfellow's  "  Song  of 
Hiawatha  "  for  such  a  story,  and  by  weav 
ing  together  the  parts  that  deal  with 
the  childhood,  youth,  and  courtship  of 
Hiawatha,  and  with  the  death  of  Minne- 
[64] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

haha,  she  was  able  to  secure  movement 
and  unity,  with  adequate  emotional  con 
trasts,  and  with  a  true  climax  for  the 
whole.  From  her  collection  of  Indian 
material  she  sifted  out  a  set  of  melodies 
that  had,  in  their  original  use,  substantially 
the  same  emotional  value  as  the  various 
personages  and  events  of  the  story.  A 
Cherokee  cradle  song  fitted  the  infancy 
of  Hiawatha,  an  Omaha  warrior  song  his 
manhood.  A  war-dance  served  the  cele 
bration  when  he  killed  his  first  deer. 
There  was  a  love-song  for  the  courtship, 
a  ghost-dance  for  the  famine,  and  so  on 
through  the  list  of  a  dozen  themes. 
For  Minnehaha,  however,  no  appropriate 
theme  could  be  found.  Indian  song  cel 
ebrates  war  and  warriors,  it  celebrates 
love,  but  apparently  it  does  not  celebrate 
woman.  The  Minnehaha  theme,  accord 
ingly  originated  with  Mrs.  Coe. 

When  she  came  to  develop  this  material, 
she  sought  by  all  means  to  preserve  a  true 
sense  of  every  situation.  So  she  retained 
the  peculiar  Indian  rhythms,  accenting 
them  in  the  bass  as  the  drum  accents 
them  in  Indian  song,  and  she  deliberately 
[65] 


MEMOIR 

restrained  the  impulse  to  complex  develop 
ments  of  the  themes.  She  believed  that 
relatively  simple  elaboration,  even  with 
considerable  repetition,  was  more  conso 
nant  with  her  purpose  to  represent  simple, 
primitive  emotions.  Of  course  these  emo 
tions  are  idealized  in  the  poem  and  in  the 
musical  setting ;  they  take  on  a  broadly 
human  aspect ;  but  is  not  the  discovery 
of  the  universally  human  in  a  particular 
time  or  people  the  truest  discovery  of 
what  that  time  or  people  really  is  ? 

After  several  months  of  work  upon  the 
melodrama,  a  first  draught  of  the  manu 
script  was  completed  near  the  end  of  June, 
1903.  Mrs.  Coe  regarded  the  undertak 
ing  at  this  stage  as  entirely  experimental 
and  problematical.  She  was  encouraged, 
however,  by  the  impressions  of  friends  for 
whom  she  played  the  piano  part,  and  later 
by  a  preliminary  trial  of  the  entire  work 
with  Mrs.  Isabel  Garghill  Beecher,  who 
met  Mrs.  Coe  in  Cambridge  for  this  pur 
pose,  and  to  whom  the  published  work 
was  afterward  dedicated.  After  slight 
rehearsing,  Mrs.  Coe  and  Mrs.  Beecher 
rendered  the  melodrama  before  Miss  Alice 
[66] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

Longfellow,  daughter  of  the  poet,  and 
before  Mr.  Arthur  Foote,  for  whose 
musical  judgment  Mrs.  Coe  was  most 
desirous.  His  approval  and  encourage 
ment  of  a  work  so  opposed  in  method  to 
his  own  compositions  finally  gave  her 
courage  to  decide  upon  making  the  melo 
drama  public. 

With  Mrs.  Coe  at  the  piano  and  Miss 
May  Neal  as  reader,  it  was  first  presented 
before  the  Evanston  Woman's  Club,  No 
vember  3,  1903.  On  December  11  they 
presented  it  before  the  University  Union 
and  a  number  of  invited  guests  at  the 
residence  of  Prof.  J.  Scott  Clark.  On  the 
twenty-seventh  of  the  following  February, 
the  anniversary  of  Longfellow's  birth,  they 
rendered  it  in  the  afternoon  before  some 
hundreds  of  school  children  at  Music  Hall, 
and  in  the  evening  before  a  crowded  public 
audience  at  the  home  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
James  A.  Patten.  These  two  recitals 
were  under  the  auspices  of  the  students' 
lecture  committee.  Subsequent  perform 
ances,  with  Mrs.  Lida  Scott  Brown  as 
reader,  were  as  follows :  Ravenswood, 
March  7,  1904 ;  Rogers  Park,  March  29 ; 
[67] 


MEMOIR 

Wilmette,  October  5  —  all  these  under 
the  auspices  of  women's  clubs ;  Artists' 
Recital  at  the  School  of  Music,  February 
16,  1905.  An  engagement  was  secured 
to  give  it  in  the  great  auditorium  at 
Chautauqua,  N.  Y.,  in  the  summer  of  1904, 
but  an  attack  of  insomnia  compelled  Mrs. 
Coe  to  cancel  all  engagements  for  that 


summer.1 


A  heartier  response  than  the  "  Hia 
watha  "  received  from  its  audiences  could 
not  well  be  imagined.  After  allowing  for 
the  disposition  to  pay  a  compliment  to  the 
composer,  or  merely  to  admire  a  clever 
piece  of  work,  one  saw  too  many  signs  of 
emotion  to  permit  a  doubt  that  the  deeps 
had  been  stirred  in  a  manner  out  of  the 
usual.  The  auditors  saw  in  the  poem 
what  they  had  never  seen  before;  they 
felt  in  the  story  depths  of  human  meaning 
that  reading  and  hearing  it  without  the 
music  had  never  revealed.  The  musical 
setting  had  proved  its  power.  This  was 
true  with  every  audience  of  adults.  How 

1  This  was  a  great  disappointment  to  her,  because  it  pre 
vented  the  wider  hearing  of  the  "  Hiawatha,"  which  she 
greatly  desired,  and  a  similar  wider  hearing  for  six  lecture- 
recitals  that  were  included  in  the  Chautauqua  engagement. 

[68] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

far  the  school  children  entered  into  this 
spirit  Mrs.  Coe  was  uncertain.  She  had 
hoped  to  make  the  composition  a  useful 
adjunct  to  the  teaching  of  American 
history  and  literature  in  the  schools,  but 
she  never  had  adequate  opportunity  to 
satisfy  her  own  mind  as  to  the  feasibility 
of  this  project.  Whether  childhood,  which 
takes  such  delight  in  the  Hiawatha  of 
story  and  picture,  could  take  in  also  the 
emotional  meaning  of  the  music  remained 
an  unsolved  problem. 

The  cordiality  with  which  the  melo 
drama  was  received  in  her  home  city,  and 
the  growing  interest  that  was  there  mani 
fested  in  its  successive  presentations,  con 
stituted  one  of  the  greatest  satisfactions 
of  her  entire  professional  career.  For 
once  a  prophet  received  honor  in  his  own 
country.  The  climax  was  reached  in  the 
rendition  at  the  School  of  Music,  when 
the  hall  was  overfilled  and  many  scores 
of  would-be  auditors  had  to  be  turned 
away.  This  was  her  last  appearance 
before  a  public  audience. 

A  few  of  her  friends  know  how  her  soul 
found  an  outlet   in  this  work.     She  felt 
[69] 


MEMOIR 

intensely  every  incident ;  there  was  not  a 
line  or  a  phrase  to  which  her  imagination 
did  not  add  light  and  life.  The  closing 
scene,  which  is  the  climax  of  the  whole, 
Hiawatha's  declaration  of  faith, — 

"  Soon  my  task  will  be  completed, 
Soon  your  footsteps  I  shall  follow 
To  the  Islands  of  the  Blessed, 
To  the  Kingdom  of  Ponemah, 
To  the  Land  of  the  Hereafter !  " 

was  her  own  religious  self-expression.  She 
felt  the  pain  of  the  famine  and  the  fever, 
the  sorrow  of  the  bereft  husband-lover, 
but  she  felt  most  of  all  the  grand  sweep 
of  faith  which  she  put  into  the  magnificent 
closing  chords. 

During  this  period  of  renditions  from 
the  manuscript  she  continued  to  revise  the 
composition  until  at  last  she  felt  that  it 
was  ready  for  publication.  It  was  issued 
from  the  press  of  the  Clayton  F.  Summy 
Company  early  in  August,  1905.  Just 
before  the  long  shadows  fell  upon  her 
earthly  life,  she  had  the  great  pleasure 
of  seeing  it  in  this,  its  final  and  completed 
form.  What  its  future  is  to  be  is  a  matter 
of  surmise.  But  in  any  case,  whether  the 
[70] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

melodrama  is  to  live  in  a  large  or  a  narrow 
place,  it  has  already  justified  its  existence 
as  an  expression  of  her  own  self  and  as  an 
awakener  of  noble  sentiment  in  others. 

All  that  I  have  now  described  of  her 
Evanston  career  was  crowded  into  a  period 
of  less  than  twelve  years.  The  high  plane 
of  her  interests,  and  the  range,  amount,  and 
uniform  thoroughness  of  her  activities  are 
an  index  of  splendid  talent.  It  did  not  go 
altogether  without  recognition.  In  1901 
her  official  rank  in  the  School  of  Music 
was  advanced  from  that  of  instructor  to 
that  of  professor,  her  chair  being  desig 
nated  as  Piano  and  Musical  History.1 
She  could  not  be  unaware  of  the  cordiality 
with  which  her  playing,  her  lecture-recitals, 
and  her  other  enterprises  were  received. 
The  love  of  her  old  pupils,  and  the  grati 
tude  of  many  other  persons,  especially  in 
women's  clubs,  to  whom  she  had  opened 

1  The  tangible  rewards  were  always  moderate.  For  six 
years  her  compensation  from  the  School  of  Music,  which 
amounted  to  two-thirds  of  the  tuition  fees  of  her  pupils, 
ranged  from  a  little  less  than  $1500  a  year  to  almost  $1850. 
During  the  last  five  years  she  received  a  fixed  salary,  the 
maximum  of  which  was,  in  round  numbers,  $1925.  Her 
outside  engagements  added  something  to  her  income  each 
year,  but  never  much  beyond  $200. 


MEMOIR 

new  vistas  into  the  world  of  tonal  beauty, 
gave  her  exquisite  pleasure. 

Yet  few  persons,  if  any,  have  been  in  a 
position  to  understand  and  estimate  her 
work  as  a  whole.  Even  now  it  would  be 
hard  to  say  how  much  she  contributed  to 
the  uplift  of  individual  life  through  music 
in  the  case  of  her  hundreds  of  pupils  ;  to 
the  development  of  a  worthy  school  of 
music ;  to  the  spread  of  sound  methods 
and  ideals  through  pupils  who  have  become 
teachers  ;  to  the  broadening  and  populariz 
ing  of  musical  culture  in  Evanston  and 
the  Middle  West ;  and,  through  the  still 
problematical  career  of  the  "  Melodrama 
of  Hiawatha,"  to  the  aesthetic  pleasure  of 
a  yet  wider  public.  But  it  is  easy  to  see 
that  she  had  a  mission,  and  that  she  accom 
plished  that  whereunto  she  was  sent. 

The  comfortable  ease  of  those  who  shine 
by  reflected  light,  or  of  those  who  traverse 
a  prescribed  orbit,  was  not  for  her.  Her 
talent  was  too  conspicuous,  and  she  had 
too  keen  a  conscience  for  the  quality  of 
her  work  and  the  obligations  of  her  station. 
She  bore  her  share  of  the  pains  by  which 
alone  ideal  standards  are  kept  out  of  the 
[72] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

dust.  They  were  the  pains  of  a  large  and 
generous  nature,  though  one  endowed,  as 
only  such  natures  can  be,  with  the  finest 
sense  of  justice.  Never  seeking  any  pro 
fessional  consideration  on  the  ground  of 
her  sex,  she  nevertheless  encountered  a  few 
—  a  very  few  —  male  musicians  who  were 
unable  to  reach  a  similar  professional 
standard.  Of  the  sorrows  of  Art  in  a 
commercial  age,  with  its  individualism  and 
its  blind  worship  of  mechanical  process, 
she  had  inevitably  to  learn.  What  fell  to 
her  to  bear  as  an  individual  she  accepted 
with  patience  and  with  the  magnanimity 
that  overlooks  everything  except  to  do 
good  to  all.  Yet  she  had  the  courage 
never  to  compromise  her  art,  and  when, 
for  example,  a  mechanical  device  com 
manded  her  to  surrender  the  proper  func 
tions  of  a  teacher,  she  never  for  an  instant 
flinched. 

Though  she  was  self-sacrificingly  loyal 
to  the  School  of  Music,  her  original  ideal 
of  teaching  under  conditions  that  would 
permit  the  free  outworking  of  her  concep 
tions  never  lost  its  attractiveness.  One 
event  after  another  carried  her  mind  back 
[73] 


MEMOIR 

to  the  old  hope.  It  is  not  improper  for 
me  to  confess  that  for  several  years  nothing 
but  considerations  growing  out  of  my  own 
relation  to  the  University  prevented  her 
from  returning  to  her  original  plan.  These 
considerations  I  never  pressed  upon  her ; 
indeed,  they  seemed  much  less  serious  to 
me  than  they  did  to  her.  But  at  last  the 
time  for  such  action  seemed  ripe,  and  in 
the  spring  of  1905,  against  the  protest  of 
the  head  of  the  School,  she  insisted  upon 
being  released  in  the  following  June. 

For  several  years  students  of  the  College 
of  Liberal  Arts  had  been  permitted  to 
attend  her  classes  in  the  history  of  music 
and  to  obtain  college  credit  therefor.1  In 
order  that  this  privilege  might  be  continued 
and  extended,  the  trustees  now  appointed 
Mrs.  Coe  as  Lecturer  on  Musical  JEs- 
thetics  in  the  College  of  Liberal  Arts. 
The  duties  of  her  new  position  were  to 
give  a  two-hour  course,  abundantly  illus 
trated,  and  the  compensation  was  to  be 
$500  a  year.  This  appointment  gave  her 

1  On  one  occasion  two  college  students  entered  her  class 
under  the  impression  that  it  was  a  "  snap."  Their  amaze 
ment  when  they  found  that  they  had  "  flunked  "  was  one  of 
the  humors  of  a  conscientious  teacher's  life. 

[74] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

great  satisfaction  on  many  accounts,  not 
least  of  which  was  the  fact  that  it  was 
made  with  a  full  understanding  that  she 
was  to  be  free  to  carry  on  her  piano  work 
in  such  manner  as  she  saw  fit. 

Plans  for  the  new  enterprise  were  im 
mediately  begun.  A  partnership  was 
formed  with  Miss  Tina  Mae  Haines,  the 
well-known  organist  and  teacher,  tempo 
rary  quarters  were  rented,  and  many  de 
tails  were  worked  out.  A  year's  leave  of 
absence  having  been  granted  to  me,  Mrs. 
Coe  and  I  determined  to  spend  the  year 
1905-06  in  Europe.  There  she  intended 
to  get  into  touch  with  various  teachers  and 
institutions  for  a  study  of  present-day 
movements  in  music  and  music-teaching. 
She  had  also  designs,  of  which  I  shall 
presently  speak,  for  further  publishing. 
Meantime  students  in  encouraging  num 
bers  announced  their  intention  of  entering 
her  classes  upon  her  return.  There  was 
every  indication  that  within  a  relatively 
short  time  a  high-grade  private  school 
would  be  in  thrifty  operation. 

What  time  would  have  brought  in  the 
way  of  original  work  if  life  and  health  had 
[75] 


MEMOIR 

been  continued  can  only  be  guessed  with 
more  or  less  approximation  to  probability. 
She  had  distinctly  formulated,  even  to 
many  details,  plans  for  two  publications 
which  it  is  easy  to  think  that  she  would 
have  carried  to  a  successful  issue.  The 
first  was  to  be  a  monograph  on  "  Wagner's 
Heroines."  She  had  already  gone  far  into 
the  literature  of  this  subject,  and  she  had 
given  one  or  two  lecture-recitals  upon  it. 
Her  purpose,  as  I  gathered  it  from  her 
conversation,  was  not  only  to  work  out 
a  group  of  interesting  studies  in  person 
ality,  but  also  to  make  these  studies  a 
new  mode  of  approach  to  Wagner's  whole 
philosophy  of  life  and  art.  This  study, 
which  was  not  expected  to  result  in  a 
large  volume,  she  hoped  to  have  well 
along  toward  publication  before  her  re 
turn  from  Europe. 

The  other  project  was  nothing  less  am 
bitious  than  an  opera.  The  plot  was  to 
be  based  upon  the  present  relations  be 
tween  the  American  Indian  and  our 
Caucasian  civilization ;  the  music  was  to 
be  in  part  a  development  of  Indian  ma 
terial.  Off  and  on  for  perhaps  three 
[76] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

years  she  had  talked  of  the  structure  of 
the  plot.  The  scene  was  to  shift  from 
an  Indian  reservation  to  one  of  the  oldest 
seats  of  American  culture,  and  back  again  ; 
the  hero  was  to  be  a  young  Indian  for 
whom  a  life-tragedy  was  to  grow  out  of 
an  inner  conflict  between  the  two  stages 
of  culture  which  he  should  experience 
within  himself.  It  is  needless  to  mention 
details  of  the  story.  They  were  so  far 
wrought  out  in  her  conception  that  the 
whole  seems  now  as  if  I  had  read  it  in 
completed  form.  As  far  as  either  of  us 
ever  learned,  this  plan  is  unique.  It  cer 
tainly  appears  to  offer  extraordinary  op 
portunity  for  fresh  dramatic  and  musical 
effects. 

I  have  spoken  thus  far  of  her  profes 
sional  doings  and  plannings.  They  truly 
reveal  her,  yet  only  in  part,  and  how 
inadequately  !  Now  that  the  end  of  this 
narrative  is  in  sight,  I  realize  that  what 
I  most  desire  to  tell  will  remain  unsaid ; 
the  greatest  thing  that  she  was  and  the 
greatest  thing  that  she  did  consist  in 
something  that  no  one  could  learn  except 
by  being  continually  in  her  presence. 
[77] 


MEMOIR 

Only  a  few  hints  of  her  more  personal 
and  private  life  may  be  set  down ;  the 
rest  must  abide  where  it  is  already  lodged 
in  the  hearts  of  the  few  who  entered  the 
inner  sanctuary. 

The  first  year  of  our  residence  in  Evans- 
ton  we  lived  in  rooms,  and  then  once 
more  we  had  a  home.  During  the  summer 
of  1894  we  built,  and  when  college  opened 
we  had  a  house  and  a  debt,  but  little 
more !  She  felt  the  burden  of  being  in 
debt  even  more  than  I  did,  and  the 
economies  that  she  practised  are  as  great 
a  marvel  to  me  now  as  they  were  then. 
But  no  sacrifice  seemed  too  great  if  we 
could  only  have  a  nest  of  our  very  own. 
This  was  her  foremost  feeling.  But  she 
needed  also  a  music-room  —  she  needed 
a  larger  and  better  one  than  our  means 
could  buy ;  but  by  adopting  a  radical 
building  plan  (her  own  conception),  we 
were  able  to  utilize  the  floor  space  so  as 
to  seat,  on  some  occasions,  as  many  as  a 
hundred  persons. 

Another  motive  also  underlay  this  plan : 
we  desired  to  make  our  home  useful  to 
the  students.  I  had  a  feeling,  which  she 
[78] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

heartily  shared,  that  something  could  be 
done  for  the  religious  and  moral  life  by 
providing  one  open  home  for  students 
on  Sunday  afternoons  during  the  indoor- 
period  of  winter.  The  music-room  was 
religiously  consecrated  to  this  purpose, 
and  when  the  meetings  began  she  threw 
herself  into  the  enterprise  with  all  her 
heart.  To  her  was  due,  in  very  large 
measure,  the  social  atmosphere  that  made 
our  conversazioni,  as  we  have  had  reason 
to  know,  occasions  of  heart-warming  as 
well  as  of  moral  reflectiveness.  After 
two  seasons  the  conversazioni  were  super 
seded  by  a  regular  Sunday  mass-meeting, 
in  some  of  the  University's  halls,  addressed 
by  prominent  speakers.  But  our  home 
never  ceased  to  seem  to  her  to  be  a  gift 
in  trust  for  others,  and  it  was  her  pleasure 
frequently  to  invite  larger  or  smaller 
groups  of  students  of  the  College  or 
the  School  of  Music,  or  both,  to  spend 
an  evening  around  our  fire,  or  to  dine 
with  us.  This  was  most  often  the  case 
at  the  Thanksgiving  and  holiday  seasons. 
Again  and  again  the  house  was  opened 
for  all  who  chose  to  come.  Her  planning 
[79] 


MEMOIR 

for  these  occasions  was  minute,  and  her 
pleasure  in  the  happiness  of  our  guests 
was  as  deep  as  it  was  unselfish. 

Many  musical  recitals  which  wrere  in 
tended  for  our  home,  and  would  have 
been  given  there  if  she  had  gone  on  with 
private  teaching,  were  transferred  to  the 
School  of  Music.  Yet  the  music-room 
witnessed  a  varied  series  of  musical  events. 
One  of  the  last  of  them,  and  possibly  the 
most  pleasurable  of  all  to  her,  was  a  re 
ception  in  honor  of  Mr.  Arthur  Foote, 
who  was  gracious  enough  to  render  several 
of  his  own  compositions. 

Here  she  practised,  studied,  wrote, 
composed ;  and  here,  as  nowhere  else  ex 
cept  in  the  homes  of  two  or  three  of  our 
friends,  music  became  for  her  a  free  self- 
disclosure,  like  conversation.  For  me, 
and  I  think  for  some  of  our  friends,  music 
here  acquired  meanings  rich  and  varied, 
meanings  that  entered  into  life  as  a  part 
of  it,  even  though  the  analytical  aspects 
that  were  an  open  book  to  her  were 
only  dimly  apprehended  by  us.  The 
hunger  of  my  ear  these  days  apprises  me 
how  life  came  to  be  lived  in  tone,  and 
[80] 


SADIE   KNOWLAND   COE 

how  thereby  life  was  raised  to  a  higher 
plane. 

Not  too  rapidly,  but  surely,  she  found 
true  friends  of  her  mind  and  heart  —  fire 
side  friends  who  understood  her,  rainy- 
day  friends  who  lined  all  her  clouds  with 
silver  —  to  whom  she  clung  with  passion 
ate  loyalty  to  the  day  of  her  death.  Ex 
tremely  sensitive  to  the  attitudes  of  others 
toward  her,  having  the  keenest  insight 
(commonly  called  intuitive)  into  the 
minds  of  others,  blessed  with  intense  likes 
and  dislikes,  she  yet  had  the  self-control 
that  makes  enemies  few,  and  the  warmth 
of  loyalty  that  preserves  friendships  once 
made.  Though  she  enjoyed  general 
society,  and  was  not  unadapted  to  its  de 
mands,  her  growing  professional  work  grad 
ually  decreased  the  frequency  with  which 
she  participated  in  large  social  functions. 
But  all  the  more  she  "grappled  to  the  soul" 
a  group  of  friends  whose  affection  she  had 
proved.  Our  home  on  University  Place 
came  to  be  linked  by  indissoluble  bonds 
with  other  homes,  here  and  there,  and 
thus  to  its  other  eternal  sanctities  was 
added  that  of  friendships  that  cannot  die. 
[81] 


MEMOIR 

It  was  often  asked  how  she  could  carry 
on  her  professional  pursuits  and  still  be 
the  good  housekeeper  that  everything 
about  our  home  proved  her  to  be.  How 
could  she  keep  everything  so  clean,  orderly, 
tasteful ;  how  could  she  make  so  much 
of  the  little  with  which  we  had  to  do ; 
what  kept  the  household  machinery  so 
regular  and  free  from  friction  ?  Precisely 
the  executive  qualities  that  made  her  pro 
fessional  work  so  effective  —  a  comprehen 
sive  and  orderly  mind,  attention  to  detail, 
quick  perception,  courage  to  put  well- 
defined  responsibilities  upon  others  and 
then  take  her  own  hands  off;  above  all 
a  spirit  of  fairness  and  dignified  sympathy 
that  enabled  her  to  keep  her  hired  helpers 
year  after  year  and  to  entrust  to  them 
almost  the  whole  routine  of  household 
management.  She  brought  out  the  best 
in  a  servant  very  much  as  she  did  in  her 
pupils,  by  a  faith  that  stimulated  to  one's 
best,  and  tolerance  of  the  defects  of 
one's  best. 

She  was  a  home-maker !  It  is  fitting 
that  I,  who  have  said  so  much  of  her 
music,  should  praise  also  the  skilled 
[82] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

housewifery  of  which  I  have  enjoyed  the 
blessings  these  many  years.  In  1900, 
without  her  suspecting  my  intention,  I 
dedicated  my  first  book  to  her  in  the 
words  of  Lowell : 

"  'T  was  nothing  that  I  can  phrase, 
But  the  whole  dumb  dwelling  grew  conscious, 
And  put  on  her  looks  and  ways." 

The  first  copy  that  came  from  the  press 
was  specially  bound  for  her,  and  therein 
she  found  a  hint  of  how  she  herself  and 
our  home  had  gone  into  all  my  work.  I 
cannot  now  think  of  better  words  in  which 
to  tell  what  our  home  has  been  like,  but 
the  source  of  them,  "  The  Dead  House," 
assumes  a  new  meaning. 

She  was  fond  of  literature,  and  it  was 
a  custom  of  ours  to  read  aloud  to  each 
other.  In  this  way  we  traversed  together 
not  a  little  poetry,  essays,  fiction,  and 
biography.  In  current  fiction  she  read 
more  widely  than  I,  and  then  she  per 
mitted  me  to  see,  through  her  eyes,  some 
of  the  ongoings  of  the  literary  world. 

Not  less  did  she  love  nature.  The 
Vogelweide,  as  she  christened  that  home 
of  meadow-larks,  the  field  opposite  the 
[83] 


MEMOIR 

north  campus  ;  the  lake  shore  ;  the  woods 
to  the  north,  with  their  spring  flowers ; 
the  mountains  that  we  visited  in  summer 
-  all  brought  her  a  message.  In  connec 
tion  with  our  annual  vacation-visit  to  her 
people  (omitted  by  her  only  twice,  when 
we  visited  the  White  Mountains  and  some 
of  the  Wisconsin  lakes),  we  found  oppor 
tunities  for  outings  in  the  forests  and 
mountains  of  the  wondrous  West.  In 
Colorado,  in  the  Lake  Tahoe  region  of 
the  Sierra  Nevada,  in  the  Shasta  region, 
at  Los  Gatos  and  Pacific  Grove,  in  the 
forests  of  Oregon,  in  the  Canadian  Rockies, 
she  found  healing  of  the  spirit  and  deep 
joy.  After  gazing  in  rapt  absorption  at 
some  mountain  landscape,  she  would  turn 
and  say,  "  The  annoyances  of  life  are  not 
as  large  as  they  seem,  after  all."  In  the 
summer  of  1904,  while  she  was  at  Ala- 
meda,  she  suffered  from  an  obstinate  at 
tack  of  insomnia,  the  only  incident  of  the 
kind  in  her  life.  After  all  skilled  treat 
ment  failed,  we  fled  to  the  Sierra  Nevada. 
We  knew  that  high  altitudes  are  not 
ordinarily  prescribed  for  insomnia,  but 
we  had  faith  that  the  mental  effect  of 
[84] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

mountain  scenery  would  more  than 
counterbalance  the  tendency  to  nerve- 
stimulation.  Tenting  in  a  great  canon, 
with  mighty  crags  and  peaks  around  her, 
with  wildflowers  rioting  at  her  feet,  and 
a  clear-voiced  brooklet  singing  to  her  of 
sleep,  she  found  rest.  Of  all  that  we 
read  together  at  that  time  she  enjoyed 
most  of  all  the  stately  references  to 
mountains  that  we  found  in  the  Bible 
—  the  mountains  that  are  round  about 
Jerusalem,  the  mountains  toward  which 
the  Psalmist  lifted  up  his  eyes,  and  all 
the  others.  From  that  time  these  were 
among  her  favorite  passages  in  the  Bible. 
As  the  years  wore  on  her  delight  in  simple, 
close  contact  with  nature  increased.  She 
acquired  a  fondness  for  tenting  that  made 
a  hotel  room  seem  stale  and  confining. 
Her  tramps  in  the  mountains  grew  longer. 
No  one  could  enter  with  more  child-like 
zest  into  the  joys  of  camp-fires  at  night, 
and  fishing  excursions  by  day,  with  their 
epicurean  cooking  at  luncheon-time.  She 
was  beginning  to  learn  the  gentle  art  of 
fly-casting  for  trout. 

Her   conversations   and   letters  were 
[85] 


MEMOIR 

lighted  up  by  a  rich  humor.  No  one 
enjoyed  a  good  story  more  than  she  did, 
and  few  persons  whom  I  have  known 
could  tell  a  story  as  well.  She  had  a 
fund  of  anecdotes,  and  whatever  she 
touched,  whether  it  was  one  of  the  com 
mon  details  of  life  or  one  of  its  larger 
problems,  she  was  always  likely  to  discover 
a  humorous  angle  of  vision. 

On  the  other  hand,  nothing  was  more 
characteristic  than  a  certain  deep  con 
scientiousness  that  compelled  her  to  meet 
all  the  events  of  life  on  a  plane  of  moral 
earnestness.  Impulsive  she  was,  splen 
didly  so.  She  would  take  in  a  situation 
in  a  flash,  and  her  great  heart  would  surge 
with  admiration  or  wrath,  with  indigna 
tion  or  pity,  with  disappointment  or  hope  ; 
but  from  girlhood  her  training  had  tended 
to  the  postponement  of  action  until  the 
second  thought  came.  That  thought  was 
sure  to  be  one  of  kindness,  one  in  which 
her  responsibility  was  taken  seriously. 
Duplicity  and  insincerity  she  could  not 
abide,  and  these  are  the  only  faults 
toward  which  she  was  uncompromisingly 
severe.  She  was  herself  the  heart  of 
[86] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

honor  and  discretion.  She  could  keep 
a  secret,  and  she  carried  locked  fast  to 
the  end  many  a  dangerous  confidence. 
I  have  already  referred  to  a  keen  sense 
of  justice  that  was  only  the  obverse  side 
of  a  large  generosity.  She  was  not  only 
too  just  to  invade  the  rights  of  others 
herself;  she  was  too  just  to  hold  a  grudge, 
and  the  meanest  person  with  whom  she 
ever  had  to  do  could  count  on  her  help 
if  he  were  unjustly  attacked. 

Her  predominant  attitude  toward  life 
was  a  constructive  one.  It  was  the  atti 
tude  of  religion  as  a  practical  purpose  and 
activity.  I  believe  that  I  am  the  only 
person  to  whom  she  ever  fully  confided 
the  facts  of  her  religious  development  in 
her  mature  years.  They  are  full  of  in 
terest,  for  in  her  own  decidedly  individual 
way  she  experienced  the  whole  stress  of 
present-day  religious  reconstruction.  She 
was  profoundly  unsatisfied  by  conventional 
modes  of  church  life,  by  forms  of  public 
worship,  by  much  of  that  which  gives  it 
self  forth  as  the  way  of  life.  She  thirsted 
for  a  reality  that  she  did  not  always  ex 
perience  in  what  was  offered  to  her.  For 
[87] 


MEMOIR 

a  time  she  questioned  much.  With  the 
exception  of  the  future  life,  of  which 
she  never  doubted,  all  the  essentials  of 
Christian  belief  went  at  one  time  or  an 
other  into  the  crucible.  The  doubt  arose 
invariably  out  of  an  immediate  practical 
issue,  never  out  of  analysis  of  historical 
doctrines.  For  such  analysis  she  had  no 
taste.  Nevertheless,  her  doubt  usually 
culminated  precisely  where  the  theological 
difficulties  of  our  day  have  been  most  in 
tense.  With  a  flash  of  wit,  or  in  a  word 
of  twilight  musing,  she  would  lay  open 
a  commonplace  fact  so  as  to  show  at  its 
core  the  characteristic  issues  of  our  age. 
I  remember  coming  home  from  church 
one  Sunday  silently  revolving  in  my  mind 
certain  high  philosophical  considerations 
relating  to  the  sermon  that  we  had  just 
listened  to,  when  she  suddenly  broke  out 
with  a  remark  on  life  as  it  actually  is  that 
in  a  sentence  projected  the  whole  problem 
and  the  whole  drift  of  the  sermon  before 
the  mind. 

It  was  fascinating  to  witness  these 
insight-flashes  of  a  mind  utterly  unversed 
in  theological   lore   and   method.      They 
[88] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

were  absolutely  fearless.  She  dared  to 
face  the  worst  possibilities,  though  for 
her,  with  her  vigorous  sense  of  life,  the 
values  at  stake  were  the  greatest. 

Little  by  little,  with  occasional  periods 
of  depression,  she  regained  a  constructive 
position.  To  say  how  she  won  it  would 
be  to  write  a  history  of  our  own  times. 
Partly  through  nature  came  the  larger 
hope,  but  more  through  a  growing  realiza 
tion  of  the  laws  of  life  as  she  experienced 
them  in  her  efforts  to  make  life  more 
ideal.  Time  and  again  she  would  sum 
up  a  series  of  events  with  the  remark 
that,  after  all,  this  or  that  principle  that 
Jesus  taught  is  the  only  one  that  really 
works.  Without  philosophizing  about  it, 
she  seemed  to  reach  a  realization  that  the 
highest  in  our  human  life  may  safely  be 
taken  as  an  index  of  what  lies  above  and 
underneath  our  life.  In  particular,  her 
own  perennial  impulse  to  communicate 
ideal  values  to  other  lives  seemed  to  gather 
strength  to  reach  up  through  the  clouds 
to  its  source  in  God.  Certain  it  is  that 
her  daily  work  became  in  a  fully  conscious 
way  the  service  of  God.  She  responded, 
[89] 


MEMOIR 

how  thankfully,  to  sermons  that  illumi 
nated  the  daily  life  with  hope  and  faith 
and  love.  All  sincere  religion  appealed 
to  her,  whether  or  not  she  could  adopt 
its  modes  of  expression.  For  her,  re 
ligious  expression  in  words  was  almost 
impossible,  but  helpful  conduct  toward 
others,  particularly  in  everyday  relations, 
took  the  place  of  words.  She  lived  out 
this  spirit  in  her  home,  and  toward  any 
who  needed  her  there  went  out  sympathy 
and  cheer  and  help.  Thus,  after  a  time, 
she  realized  a  reconstructed  faith.  All 
the  values  of  her  girlhood  religion  with 
stood  the  crucible  and  came  out  as  gold 
tried  in  the  fire ;  and  when  a  new  and 
final  test,  which  many  regard  as  the  most 
severe  of  all,  met  her,  her  faith  shone,  as 
we  shall  see,  with  undimmed  lustre. 

Of  her  glorious  capacity  for  affection, 
how  can  I  speak  without  profanation,  yet 
how  can  I  be  silent?  All  the  prismatic 
rays  of  a  brilliant  mind  and  an  ardent 
temperament  focussed  in  her  heart-life. 
Impetuous  as  the  magnetic  needle  when 
it  seeks  its  pole,  and  not  less  constant, 
was  her  affection.  In  her  home,  as  no- 
[90] 

• 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

where  else,  the  wealth  of  her  personality 
spent  itself  forth  as  California's  summer 
sun  glows  down  upon  the  mountains.  It 
was  such  a  self-giving  and  self-forgetting 
as  makes  credible  the  love  of  God  wherein 
all  meaning  is.  The  object  upon  which 
such  affection  is  lavished  can  never  hence 
forth  become  poor.  Time  and  death  and 
eternity  have  found  their  meaning  for 
him,  and  that  meaning  is  good.  Death 
cannot  rob  him,  because  the  love  that 
makes  separation  so  tragic  is  itself  the 
realization  of  things  hoped  for,  the  evi 
dence  of  things  not  seen.  The  very  in 
tensity  of  the  suffering  is  evidence  that 
death  is  swallowed  up  in  victory. 


[91] 


ALAMEDA 

July -August,  1905 


I 


'S  this  the  end  of  all  my  care  ? 


Is  this  the  end  ?     Is  this  the  end  ? 

Alfred  Tennyson. 

f  Iff  HA  T  is  excellent, 

fry         As  God  lives,  is  permanent ; 

Hearts  are  dust,  heart's  loves  remain  ; 
Heart's  love  will  meet  tkee  again. 

Ralph  Waldo  Emerson. 


S 


'HE  is  not  dead. 

Jesus. 


^*  y/LL  all  at  once  beyond  the  will 
i  I  hear  a  wizard  music  roll, 

And  thro'  a  lattice  on  the  soul 
Looks  thy  fair  face  and  makes  it  still. 

Alfred  Tennyson. 


THE  expected  year  in  Europe  meant 
only  a  little  less  to  her  than  did 
the  first  opportunity  for  foreign 
study.  Her  plans  were  definite  and  full. 
Two  of  her  advanced  pupils  were  to  ac 
company  us,  and  they  were  to  be  placed 
in  Berlin  for  the  winter  after  a  visit  to 
the  Wagner  festival  at  Munich.  She  was 
then  to  spend  a  considerable  part  of  the 
season  in  Paris.  Passage  to  Europe  was 
engaged  for  August  30  from  New  York. 
Between  commencement  and  that  time 
we  were  to  pass  nine  or  ten  days  in  the 
Sierra  Nevada,  and  then  she  was  to  visit 
her  people  in  Alameda,  leaving  me  for 
a  little  longer  in  the  mountains. 

Her  brother  and  his  family  met  us  in 
the  Sierra,  and  with  them  and  other 
friends  she  spent  delightful  days.  There 
were  walks,  and  drives,  and  picnics,  and 
quiet  hours  in  the  hammock.  Early  in 
July  she  went  on  to  Alameda,  and  I 
[95] 


MEMOIR 

followed  her  thither  on  the  4th  of  August. 
I  found  her  not  quite  well.  She  had  had 
an  attack  of  ptomaine  poisoning  following 
the  eating  of  shrimps  at  San  Francisco 
on  the  first  day  of  that  month.  Appar 
ently  she  was  recovering  from  the  attack, 
but  in  a  day  or  two  she  became  worse, 
and  for  a  week  she  was  very  ill.  Between 
the  13th  and  the  20th,  however,  convales 
cence  was  so  rapid  that  the  attending 
physician  had  no  scruples  against  her  start 
ing  for  the  East,  in  accordance  with  our 
programme,  on  the  22d.  On  the  20th 
she  began  to  suffer  with  what  appeared 
to  be  colic.  No  alarming  symptoms  ap 
peared  until  late  the  following  afternoon. 
Early  the  next  morning,  after  a  night  of 
terrible  suffering,  it  was  for  the  first  time 
clear  that  a  stoppage  of  the  intestine 
existed.  She  was  immediately  removed 
to  Ward's  sanatorium  in  San  Francisco, 
where  Dr.  J.  W.  Ward  operated  the  same 
day  for  the  relief  of  the  stoppage.  He 
found  the  cause  of  it  to  be  a  cancer, 
evidently  of  long  standing.  Perforation 
and  blood-poisoning  had  already  occurred. 
The  possibility  of  saving  her  was  only  a 
[96] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

chance  in  a  thousand,  but  it  was  seized 
upon  and  a  fight  for  her  life  was  made. 
The  difficulties  were  enormous.  But 
resection  was  successfully  accomplished, 
and  the  blood  poisoning  was  somewhat 
checked.  Undoubtedly  the  operation 
prolonged  her  life,  but  just  before  six 
o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  24th,  thirty- 
six  hours  after  the  operation,  the  poison 
stilled  the  beating  of  her  heart. 

The  medical  aspects  of  the  case  are 
most  strange.  "Doctor,"  said  the  sur 
geon  to  the  attending  physician  when 
the  truth  was  revealed  by  the  operation, 
"  it 's  impossible,  but  there  it  is  ! "  Of 
the  fact  of  cancer  there  is  no  doubt,  for 
the  diagnosis  was  subsequently  confirmed 
by  bacteriological  examination.  The 
disease  had  been  present,  without  doubt, 
for  many  months,  yet  no  symptom  of 
any  chronic  or  organic  disorder  had  ever 
shown  itself.  Every  incident  that  can 
now  be  regarded  as  possibly  connected 
with  the  disease  had  been  fully  accounted 
for.  She  had  shown  more  fatigue  than 
usual  toward  the  end  of  the  college  year, 
but  it  was  fully  explainable  by  the  mental 
[97] 


MEMOIR 

strain  connected  with  her  resignation  from 
the  School  of  Music.  She  had  suffered 
from  a  gastric  disturbance  for  a  few  hours, 
but  this  also  was  completely  explained 
by  the  immediate  circumstances.  The 
ptomaine  poisoning  that  preceded  her  last 
illness  seems  only  to  have  been  rendered 
more  stubborn  by  the  diseased  condition 
of  the  tissues.  All  that  is  possible  to 
medical  and  surgical  science  and  skill  was 
done  at  the  first  indicated  moment,  but 
that  moment  was  too  late. 

Of  the  personal  side  of  her  life  from 
August  4  to  August  24  I  must  speak, 
in  order  that  her  friends  may  know  how 
she  met  these  fiery  trials.  They  revealed, 
not  weakness,  but  strength.  Though  she 
was  always  sensitive  in  the  highest  degree 
to  all  pain  stimuli,  day  after  day  she  bore 
intense  suffering  with  unwavering  courage 
and  high  spirit.  I  can  say  this  with  full 
knowledge  of  the  facts,  for  it  was  my 
privilege  to  nurse  her  day  and  night  until 
she  entered  her  room  at  the  hospital. 
Cheerful,  uncomplaining,  thoughtful  of 
others,  foresighted,  affectionate  always, 
[98] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

even  indulging  her  irrepressible  fondness 
for  humor,  she  shed  a  glory  upon  those 
days  that  transfigures  their  tragic  pathos. 

The  abrupt  announcement  of  the  neces 
sity  for  an  operation  caused  her  to  shrink, 
but  only  for  a  very  few  moments.  Then 
the  strength  of  her  nature  showed  itself. 
A  number  of  years  ago,  when  we  were 
travelling  by  stage  in  Oregon,  our  road 
brought  us  to  a  ravine  where  the  bridge 
was  down  and  our  only  chance  of  crossing 
lay  in  several  lengths  of  plank  only  a  foot 
wide.  She  had  always  had  extreme  fear 
of  high  places,  yet,  after  surveying  the 
situation,  she  calmly  told  me  to  take  her 
hand  and  lead  the  way  across.  Until 
that  instant  I  could  not  have  believed 
her  capable  of  it,  yet  she  made  the  peril 
ous  passage  with  utter  steadiness.  She 
had  always  had  a  horror  of  operations, 
but  now  she  placed  her  hand  in  that  of 
the  great  Guide  and  Helper  and  went 
forward  as  steadily  as  if  she  were  merely 
undertaking  an  unusual  piece  of  work. 
She  made  ready  with  her  characteristic 
attention  to  details,  was  interestedly  ob 
servant  of  all  the  preparations,  talked 
[99] 


MEMOIR 

frankly  and  fearlessly  of  the  extreme 
danger  that  lay  ahead.  The  faith  that 
had  sustained  her  in  the  work  of  life  now 
went  with  her  in  her  peril  and  suffering. 

After  the  operation,  which  was  of  ex 
treme  severity,  though  she  was  weak  she 
was  still  in  possession  of  her  mental  powers 
with  all  their  individuality.  Patient, 
practical,  thoughtful  of  the  nurse,  still 
seeing  the  humorous  side  of  things,  con 
stantly  striving  to  make  the  situation 
easier  for  her  loved  ones,  she  was  her  very 
self. 

We  could  not  take  the  risk  of  exciting 
her  by  explaining  her  condition,  yet  toward 
the  end  she  knew  by  inference  from  the 
activities  of  the  surgeon  and  the  nurses 
that  her  life  was  the  prize  for  which  a 
persistent  fight  was  being  made.  To  the 
sentiment  that  we  wrere  in  the  hands  of 
God,  and  that  He  would  do  all  things 
well,  she  responded  with  the  smiling  trust 
of  a  child  that  nestles  against  its  mother's 
breast.  Even  in  the  last  hours  she  was 
so  fully  herself  that,  when  something  that 
she  desired  had  to  be  denied,  I  did  not 
hesitate  to  reply  in  the  appropriate  words 
[100] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

of  a  humorous  story  that  we  had  recently 
enjoyed  together.  She  took  in  all  the 
humor,  and  she  made  the  application  in 
her  characteristic  way.  The  end  came 
peacefully  just  as  morning  broke. 

No,  not  the  end !     Only  the  close  of 
a  chapter  in  her  life!      With  suppressed 
protest  this  story  has  conformed  to  usage 
by  saying  —  how  often  —  "she  was.'5; .  :I|f. 
it  is  given  to  us  to  discriminate  the  seen)- , 
ing  from  the  real  at  all,  a  rich  personality 
like  hers  cannot  be  mere  transitory  seem 
ing.     To  have  known  her  very  soul  for 
seventeen  years  is  enough  to  make  one 
certain  that  death  cannot  reach  her. 

The  funeral  was  held  at  the  home  of 
her  parents  on  the  25th  of  August  at 
two  o'clock.  There  were  present  about 
seventy-five  invited  guests,  largely  her 
friends  of  other  days.  The  service  was 
in  charge  of  the  Rev.  Charles  R.  Brown, 
pastor  of  the  First  Congregational  Church 
of  Oakland,  a  friend  of  both  of  us  in  the 
old  Boston  days.  In  accordance  with  a 
special  request,  the  service  was  a  brief 
one.  The  hymns,  "  Lead,  Kindly  Light " 
and  "  Sweet  is  Thy  Mercy,  Lord,"  were 
[101] 


MEMOIR 

sung  by  the  quartette  of  Mr.  Brown's 
church,  Mrs.  Grace  Davis  Northrup,  so 
prano,  Mrs.  Lena  Carroll  Nicholson,  con 
tralto,  Mr.  Henry  L.  Perry,  bass,  and 
Mr.  Chester  Rosekrans,  tenor.  Mr. 
Brown's  address  follows : 

"  This  event  we  call  death  is  never  referred  to 
in  the;  New  Testament  as  in  any  sense  a  finality, 
hup  always  as  an  experience  in  life.  It  is  repre 
sented  under  many  different  figures,  some  of  which 
"f  recall  to"  your  minds  to-day. 

"  Death  is  called  a  sleep.  When  Lazarus  died 
Jesus  said,  'Our  friend  Lazarus  is  fallen  asleep. 
I  go  that  I  may  awake  him  out  of  his  sleep.1 
Death  was  a  sleep  which  came  at  the  end  of  a 
long  day  of  life,  when  the  body,  wearied  by  disease, 
it  might  be,  or  by  old  age,  lost  itself  in  sleep.  It 
was  a  sleep  out  of  which  there  was  to  come  an 
awakening  to  a  brighter,  longer,  fairer  day.  It 
was  thus  that  Jesus  spoke  of  death  as  a  sleep. 

"He  also  spoke  of  death  as  a  'going  out."1 
When  Jesus  was  on  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration 
with  his  three  disciples,  Peter  and  James  and  John, 
his  companions  spoke  with  Him  of  '  the  decease 
which  He  should  accomplish  at  Jerusalem.1  The 
word  used  for  'decease1  was  the  word  'exodus,1 
the  going  out.  It  had  reference  to  an  experience 
in  the  life  of  the  ancient  Hebrew  nation,  when  the 
Israelites,  suffering  under  the  bondage  and  the 
varied  limitations  of  their  life  in  Egypt,  accom- 
[102] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

plished  an  exodus  —  they  went  out  into  the  broader, 
freer  life  of  the  steppes  and  then  on  into  the 
larger  and  more  joyous  opportunities  of  the  land 
of  promise. 

"  Death  is  an  exodus,  a  going  out  from  what 
ever  bondage  we  may  suffer  here  because  of  the 
physical  order  in  which  we  live,  into  the  finer 
opportunities  of  the  land  of  promise. 

"There  is  yet  another  figure  used  by  St.  Paul 
which  I  have  always  loved.  He  was  fond  of  the 
sea.  In  his  missionary  labors  he  had  made  many 
voyages  around  the  Mediterranean.  He  had  been 
shipwrecked,  spending  a  day  and  a  night  in  the 
deep.  He  had  come  into  close  contact  with  the 
sailors  and  out  of  all  this  experience  he  had  brought 
many  nautical  terms  which  now  and  then  he  used 
in  the  expression  of  spiritual  truth. 

"  Near  the  close  of  his  life,  when  he  was  not  an 
old  man,  but  worn  by  the  many  hardships  of  his 
active  service,  he  wrote  from  his  prison  in  Rome 
to  his  young  friend  Timothy  the  last  letter  of 
which  we  have  any  record.  '  I  have  fought  a 
good  fight,'  he  says.  '  I  have  kept  the  faith ;  I 
have  finished  my  course.  The  time  of  my  depar 
ture  is  at  hand.1  And  the  word  he  uses  for  *  de 
parture'  means  literally  'the  unmooring.'  'The 
time  of  my  unmooring  is  at  hand.'  He  thought 
of  himself  as  a  ship  tied  at  the  dock,  fretting  and 
chafing  its  sides  against  the  wharf,  dreaming  ever 
of  the  open  sea.  By  and  by,  when  in  the  purpose 
of  the  master  the  hour  for  departure  arrived,  there 
came  an  unmooring,  a  casting  off  of  all  the  cables, 
[103] 


MEMOIR 

and  the  setting  forth  on  the  wide  sea  to  the  haven 
beyond. 

"  Death  is  an  unmooring,  a  cutting  loose  from 
things  which  have  held  us  here,  a  casting  off  of 
cables  which  may  have  grown  inexpressibly  dear, 
holding  us  as  they  do  to  this  earthly  situation. 
But  when  death  comes,  it  is  not  in  any  sense  the 
end  of  life,  but  rather  the  beginning  of  a  vast 
voyage  on  an  open  sea  to  the  appointed  haven 
beyond. 

"Death  then  is  a  sleep,  a  going  out,  an  un 
mooring.  When  we  thus  think  of  it  in  the  terms 
and  in  the  spirit  of  the  New  Testament  it  seems 
no  longer  a  finality,  but  a  supreme  experience  in 
every  way  preparatory  to  the  larger  things  that 
lie  further  on.  In  this  firm  assurance  we  find  our 
comfort  when  at  hours  like  this  we  come  to  mourn 
the  loss  of  those  whom  we  have  loved. 

"  It  would  be  altogether  superfluous  for  me  to 
stand  here  to  utter  extended  words  of  eulogy  in 
regard  to  our  dear  friend  Mrs.  Coe.  We  are 
all  here  because  we  knew  her,  and  because  appre 
ciation,  esteem,  and  love  have  filled  our  hearts. 
She  was  strong,  sane,  well-poised,  unselfish,  finding 
ever  her  greatest  joy  not  in  being  ministered  unto, 
but  in  ministering  unto  others,  tender-hearted, 
as  every  true  woman  must  be  to  be  true.  How 
nobly  and  beautifully  these  qualities  were  em 
bodied  in  the  life  we  knew ! 

"She  was  by  extraordinary  natural  endowment, 
by  wide  and  varied  training,  and  by  demonstrated 
efficiency  a  teacher,  a  great  teacher.  She  was  not 
[  104] 


SADIE   KNOWLAND   COE 

only  a  teacher  of  music,  her  chosen  instrument  in 
the  accomplishment  of  her  work,  but  a  teacher  of 
the  higher,  finer  values  in  life.  It  was  her  office 
to  aid  in  the  unfolding,  the  maturing,  and  the 
enrichment  of  personality,  and  music  was  her 
appointed  instrument  to  that  high  end.  She 
wrought  not  only  in  the  world  of  tone,  but  in 
the  world  of  spirit. 

"She  was  a  musician  in  her  own  right  —  not 
only  a  skilled  performer  of  the  melodies  and 
harmonies  of  others,  but  a  creator  of  melody  and 
harmony  herself.  While  she  lived  and  worked 
in  this  sense-world  the  tones  were  but  as  symbols 
of  deeper  spiritual  values,  and  with  them  she 
sought  to  bring  out  the  deeper  meanings  of  life's 
aspirations,  to  the  end  that  '  there  might  be  one 
music  as  before,  but  vaster.1 

"  She  was  a  daughter,  and  how  she  was  endeared 
to  this  household !  How  they  all  rejoiced  in  the 
splendid  success  which  she  achieved !  How  they 
welcomed  her  home  coming !  How  they  were 
blessed  and  enriched  in  her  sweet  companionship ! 
How  it  seemed  to  them  as  if  all  the  stars  had 
fallen  out  of  the  sky  when  the  sad  news  came 
that  she  was  gone !  She  nobly  fulfilled  all  that 
was  beautiful  in  that  word  'daughter.1 

"She  was  a  wife,  and  upon  one  heart  most 
heavily  of  all  there  falls  a  sense  of  deep  disappoint 
ment  and  irreparable  loss,  now  that  she  is  i*emoved 
from  us.  George  Albert  Coe  and  Sadie  Knowland 
knew  and  served  God  when  their  lives  lay  apart. 
Then  the  paths  drew  near,  blended,  and  became 
[105] 


MEMOIR 

one  path  where  they  walked  side  by  side,  working 
together,  living  together,  loving  each  other,  mak 
ing  their  contribution  of  clear  thought  and  noble 
harmony,  that  the  world  about  them  might  have 
life  and  have  it  more  abundantly.  And  now 
again  the  paths  have  drawn  apart,  yet  not  far 
apart,  and  not  apart  at  all  except  to  our  mortal 
eyes.  In  spirit  and  in  purpose  their  work  is  still 
one.  The  kingdom  is  one,  though  some  citizens 
toil  here  and  some  there.  The  great  task  is 
one,  though  some  labor  in  one  abiding-place  and 
some  in  another  of  the  Father's  House.  The 
unfolding,  the  maturing,  the  enriching  of  person 
ality  does  not  end  at  death,  and  there  is  still  and 
ever  the  same  necessity  for  that  noble  service  to 
be  rendered  under  the  eye  of  God.  The  paths 
may  lie  apart  for  a  season,  but  the  work,  as  well 
as  the  spirit  and  purpose  of  their  lives,  is  forever 
one. 

"Thus  in  these  great  assurances  gathered  to 
our  hearts  out  of  God's  word  to  men,  and  in  the 
great  anticipations  which  rise  before  us  when  we 
rest  upon  the  integrity  of  those  plans  with  which 
we  have  already  learned  in  some  measure  to  co 
operate,  we  find  our  comfort! 

" '  Sunset  and  evening  star,  and  one  clear  call  for  me  ! 
And  may  there  be  no  moaning  of  the  bar,  when 

I  put  out  to  sea, 
But  such  a  tide  as  moving  seems  asleep,  too  full 

for  sound  and  foam 

When  that  which  drew  from  out  the  ocean  deep, 
turns  again  home. 
[106] 


SADIE  KNOWLAND  COE 

" '  Twilight  and  evening  bell,  and  after  that  the  dark  ! 
And  may  there  be  no  sadness  of  farewell  when 

I  embark : 
For  tho'  from  out  our  bourne  of  time  and  place 

the  flood  may  bear  me  far, 

I  hope  to  see  my  Pilot  face  to  face  when  I  have 
crost  the  bar.'  " 

By  a  strange  and  comforting  coinci 
dence,  three  of  my  old  Boston  student- 
friends,  in  addition  to  Mr.  Brown,  were 
present.  They  are  the  Rev.  Arthur  H. 
Briggs,  the  Rev.  Edward  P.  Dennett,  and 
the  Rev.  Francis  M.  Larkin.  Mr.  Briggs 
and  Mr.  Larkin  had  known  Mrs.  Coe 
when  she  was  still  Miss  Knowland,  and 
Mr.  Dennett  had  married  one  of  her  most 
intimate  girl  friends.  These  three,  to 
gether  with  Mr.  W.  F.  Minium,  a  North 
western  alumnus,  whose  wife  had  studied 
with  Mrs.  Coe  in  Evanston,  Mr.  Joseph 
Forderer,  an  old  friend  of  the  family,  and 
Mr.  W.  K.  Scott,  who  had  been  one  of 
our  merry  party  in  the  mountains  a  few 
days  before,  served  as  pall-bearers. 

In   her   days  of  health  Mrs.  Coe  had 

expressed  to  me  and  also  to  her  mother 

a  preference  for  cremation.     Accordingly, 

what  was  mortal  of  her  was  committed  to 

[107] 


MEMOIR 

the  purifying  heat  at  the  beautiful  Oak 
land  crematory.  ,  In  due  time  a  perma 
nent  resting-place  will  be  provided  for 
her  ashes. 

How  do  I  love  thee  ?     Let  me  count  the  ways. 

I  love  thee  to  the  depth  and  breadth  and  height 

My  soul  can  reach,  when  feeling  out  of  sight 

For  the  ends  of  Being  and  Ideal  Grace. 

I  love  thee  to  the  level  of  everyday's 

Most  quiet  need,  by  sun  and  candlelight. 

I  love  thee  freely,  as  men  strive  for  Right ; 

I  love  thee  purely,  as  they  turn  from  Praise ; 

I  love  thee  with  the  passion  put  to  use 

In  my  old  griefs,  and  with  my  childhood's  faith ; 

I  love  thee  with  a  love  I  seemed  to  lose 

With  my  lost  saints  —  I  love  thee  with  the  breath, 

Smiles,  tears,  of  all  my  life  !  —  and,  if  God  choose 

I  shall  but  love  thee  better  after  death. 

ELIZABETH  BARRETT  BROWNING. 


[108] 


